measure me in heartbeats
by chalantness
Summary: Drabble #48 - Jason/Bette - It should be kind of scary, how comfortable she is in his apartment.
1. drabble 1

**Pairing:** Dick/Zatanna  
**Rating:** low T  
**Word Count:** ~800  
**Inspiration:** media. tumblr. moc/ tumblr _ m7wvoq0etM1qhxhiz . jpg  
-_Just reverse "moc" to "com" and delete the spaces (:_

* * *

Sometimes he thinks Zatanna enjoys this undercover stuff a little too much.

It's awesome.

It's probably because she loves dressing up and playing the part. She was in the drama department during middle school and high school because her dad wanted her to have constructive after-school activities to keep her off of the streets, and she pretty much fell in love with the theatre.

He knows she won't turn him down if he asks her to take on a role, which is a good thing, because he doesn't believe in sending a man to do a woman's job.

Sometimes you just need a woman's touch. Like when a man is suspected of supplying scopolamine to political tyrants in third world countries, sometimes it'll be easier for a woman to gain said man's trust and be invited to his place than it would be for a guy.

(Because "gaining his trust" obviously translates to "seducing.")

Dick's been parked across the street from the apartment complex for about fifteen minutes when Zatanna texts him saying that it's all clear.

The door is already unlocked when he gets there, so he just walks in, locks it behind him and finds the guy on the floor, unconscious and cuffed at his wrists. Zatanna's not in the living room or the adjoining kitchen, but he can hear her searching the rest of the apartment—and not because she's being obvious and loud, but because his highly trained ears can still pick up on the sounds even though she's being really careful to not make too many of them.

So he pokes the guy in the arm with his foot to confirm that he's actually out cold, then goes to look for her. He does a quick scan of the bedroom and bathroom and the hallway closet out of habit, even though he knows Zatanna wouldn't have been sloppy and left any inch of the place unchecked, before finding her in the study.

She's leaning over a chair with one hand braced against the desk and the other one swiping over the keys of the guy's laptop.

He smiles.

He doesn't think of himself as objectifying because he was raised to be better than that, and if he ever was, almost every female he knows could and probably _would_ kill him.

But right now he's looking at Zatanna and can't help but find her unnervingly sexy in this little secretary outfit she has on because she had to act like she was coming to the bar after work. She's in this black skirt and a white blouse and stockings, with her hair curled and down from the ponytail she'd had it in earlier, and seeing her take on all of these different roles is kind of the best reminder that she's as sexy as she is beautiful. (Because yes, those have two different meanings to him, even though she's always been both.)

She frowns and grips her shirt in her hands as she straightens up, presses her glossy lips together like she does when she's getting lost in thought. "What's the matter? Couldn't find any evidence on there?" he asks, and when she turns to look at him, he notices that her shirt is unbuttoned.

She's wearing a lacy dark blue bra.

He swallows. _Hard_.

"No," she says, turning back to the screen. "It's all here: his customers, his shipping lists, his resources. It was encrypted and there was a firewall but that was it. I'm just wondering why he made it so accessible for anyone to get their hands on it."

"I doubt he expected to bring home the girlfriend of a master hacker," he laughs. She rolls her eyes. "And you could never be just _anyone_."

She looks at him. "Yeah?" she asks, like she's wondering if he's just saying it or if he means it.

Silly girl.

He nods, and she bites down on her lip and _smiles_ at him, and it really should be a crime for her to be so beautiful and sexy and adorable at the same time.

She grasps his tie and pulls him forward, presses their lips together and kisses him a little dirtier than she ever would if they were with the League or the Team. Wally always asks why they both like doing all of this tedious undercover stuff, but when he gets to spend all of this time all over the world with his girlfriend, it's kind of a no-brainer.

Even if it _is_ probably ten different kinds of inappropriate of them to make out in the middle of a criminal's apartment.

And she smirks when he tells her this, pushes him back against the bookcase and guides his hand over the curve of her hip. "You're not at all curious to see if my underwear matches my bra?" she whispers into his ear, and he groans and tugs her zipper down.

… …

(They match.)


	2. drabble 2

**Pairing:** Dick/Zatanna  
**Rating:** PG  
**Word Count:** ~700  
**Inspiration:** media. tumblr. moc/ tumblr _ m7xpktBfYW1qhxhiz. jpg  
-_Just reverse "moc" to "com" and delete the spaces (:_

* * *

She only remembers telling him about wanting a cat because they'd been at a winter charity function for one of the pet shelters that the Wayne family donates to regularly and it was one of her favorite nights, ever – Bruce proposed to Selina and Artemis told Wally that she was three weeks pregnant – so of course she's going to remember all the details.

But when her birthday rolls around almost half a year later, the last thing she expects him to remember is that small conversation.

She'd been living with him and his family in the Mansion since she turned eighteen because she wanted there to be enough room at the Cave for the new members, and because Bruce insisted she move in with them rather than live on her own so he can keep his promise to her father to look after her. But she and Dick have been living together since last Halloween (long story…) in the _penthouse_ Bruce bought them the day after they announced that they were thinking they should move out soon.

Bruce's reasoning is because it's some sort of early engagement present (they'd all blushed pretty hard when he'd said that), but she knows it's because he wants to keep them close to home. It's really sweet, actually, the way this family communicates with gestures more than words.

Like Dick buying her a _kitten_ for her birthday even though she's only ever mentioned it once.

She'd been sitting cross-legged on the floor over the blanket Megan gave them (it's colorful and loud and actually really charming in an eccentric kind of way) when he walked through the front door cradling a bundled blanket in one arm.

"What's that?" she'd asked.

He'd just smiled at her and set the blanket gently on the floor, and this furry little thing with big ears and huge eyes poked its head out of the cloth and melted her heart like, _instantly_.

She's in love.

"Who's this little cutie?" she asks, eyes never leaving the kitten.

Dick's careful to not make any sudden movements as he sits beside her on the blanket and kisses her temple, because the kitten is shaking a little and looks so fragile and probably kind of terrified of the unfamiliar surroundings. But then it seems to get distracted with something and then trots over to where Dick took off his shoes and left them at the edge of the blanket, sniffs it and actually relaxes a bit when it starts playing with the shoelace. Seriously, she's _in love_.

"She was rescued with her mother and the rest of her litter," he tells her. "Selina was at the shelter when they were brought back from the vet. They're all perfect healthy."

"She's adorable," she sighs, and the kitten turns to look right at her. Honestly, she reminds Zatanna of a leopard with its brown fur and black lopsided spots that are long and kind of look like streaks. Zatanna holds her hand out and after staring for a few seconds the kitten walks over and sniffs it, then rubs her face against her fingers.

"You like her?" She nods and giggles a little as the kitten actually jumps up onto her knee. "She's yours."

Zatanna's head snaps to look at him. "Really?"

He _beams _at her and nods, and she leans forward and kisses him because she just kind of has to.

Then the little girl slides into her lap and her fur is tickling Zatanna's legs, and Zatanna has to grab the sides of her paperback to keep from losing her page. The little kitten sort of stares at all of the words before leaning in and sniffing the pages, then rubs her face against it and puts her paw over Zatanna's thumb.

Zatanna makes this little noise at the back of her throat and the kitten looks up at her and tilts her head.

"What do you want to name her?" Dick asks.

"Can we call her Ella?"

"Of course. After your mom?" She nods, cups her hands together so Ella can jump inside them and then lifts her closer to their faces. Ella purrs and it's pretty obvious that she's already stolen their hearts. "Do you like your present?"

"I love her."

"I'm glad," he says, and kisses her shoulder. "Happy birthday, Zee."


	3. drabble 3

**Pairing:** Wally/Artemis  
**Rating:** PG  
**Word Count:** ~800  
**Inspiration:** media. tumblr. moc/ tumblr _ m7xv2s8pnl1qhxhiz. jpg  
-_Just reverse "moc" to "com" and delete the spaces (:_

* * *

Bolt passes away when Jayden is a little over one and Artemis is a month pregnant with Elizabeth, and as sad as they are, they also know that Bolt had a pretty good life. He lived two years past the life expectancy of his breed, slept all day and ate and ran and played with them when he was awake, and he was there for all of Jayden's first year milestones.

And while no one can replace Bolt, it doesn't mean they can't get one for the kids.

Jayden has been mentioning it for a while now and he starts Kindergarten in the fall, and she thinks that having a dog will not only help to teach him responsibility but will also give him a companion in this sort of transition into the next stage of his life. So they go to the Central City pet shelter and Jayden immediately attaches to this chubby Saint Bernard puppy with floppy ears and these dark eyes. They look at a few more dogs, too, but it's pretty obvious which one Jayden wants.

Sparky (Jayden let Ellie pick the name) is a perfect fit to their family.

And he grows kind of really big really quickly because he was already a few months old by the time they adopted him. He just has all of this energy most of the time and he's really good at listening and respecting everyone's personal space and knowing his boundaries, because no, they're not the kind of owners that treat their dog like he's a human.

They love him like family because he _is_ family, but dogs are happiest when they're treated like dogs.

(Wally was the one to tell them that, actually, because he watched a marathon of _Dog Whisperer_ one night and thinks he's an expert now.)

Anyway.

Sundays are their lazy days because they usually don't try to schedule anything if they can help it so they can just hang around the house in their pajamas. They usually go out and do family stuff on Saturdays and Fridays after work and school, anyway, so it's a nice way to end each week.

It's almost their hourly snack time – their kids eat almost as much as Wally, but at least they're open to trying a lot of different foods so it makes it easier to have different snacks ready – and she has apple crisp fresh out of the oven. She doesn't even have to call for anyone, either, because their noses alert them that the food's ready and then they're drawn in like magnets. Jayden comes in from the backyard where he was speeding around and playing soccer with himself, and Wally comes in from the front where he was washing her car.

"Ellie wasn't outside with you?"

Jayden furrows his eyebrows at her and actually looks a little worried. It's amazing how protective he is of Ellie. "I thought she was inside with you."

"She's upstairs," Wally reassures. "She didn't come outside with either of us and she wouldn't have been able to without us noticing, so where else could she be?"

Artemis smiles. He's a dork most of the time, but sometimes she forgets how rational Wally can be, which is helpful since she's usually overprotective of her kids and all over the place when she's emotional.

"I'll go get her," Artemis tells the both of them, and Jayden relaxes a little and follows his dad into the kitchen.

When Artemis makes her way upstairs and into Ellie's room, she stops in the doorway and smiles widely. Sparky and Ellie are both asleep on the rug laid out on the hardwood floor in a sea of stuffed animals, and Ellie is hugging the bunny Dinah gave to her and using Sparky as big, furry pillow. They're a million different kinds of adorable right now, and she quickly grabs the camera from hers and Wally's room and snaps a few pictures because she just _has_ to.

Then she kneels down to nudge Ellie's shoulder gently. "Ellie Pie," she coos, and Ellie stirs a bit, scrunches her face and tries to rub her eyes before Artemis pulls her hand away so she can't get dirt in them or something.

"Mommy?"

"It's me," Artemis says, and Sparky makes this little noise and blinks awake. "Come eat with us. I made apple crisp."

Ellie gives a toothy smile. "That's my favorite." Artemis laughs. Ellie says that about everything. "Can Sparky come eat with us, too?"

"Of course. Now get up, lazy butts."

Ellie giggles as Artemis pulls her up, and all it takes is one yawn for Artemis to _see_ her energy all rushing back. She grips her bunny her hand and exclaims, "Let's go, Sparky!" and they both go racing down the stairs. Seriously, if they weren't naturally fast and usually able to avoid hurting themselves, her kids would give her heart attacks.

"Why do you have your camera?" Wally asks when she walks into the kitchen, and she sees his eyes light up when she shows him the pictures. "It's just like the one Jayden took with Bolt."

Yeah, she thought that same thing.

Then he _smiles _at her and asks her in this soft voice, "Want another?"

She's not sure if he means having another kid or adopting another dog, but honestly, she wouldn't mind either. Or both.

Probably both.


	4. drabble 4

**Pairing:** Dick/Artemis  
**Rating:** T?  
**Word Count:** ~900  
**Inspiration:** media. tumblr. moc/ tumblr _ m81gxu96Ku1qhxhiz. jpg  
-_Just reverse "moc" to "com" and delete the spaces (:_

* * *

When Dick texted her and asked if she had anything planned for today and she told him that no, she didn't (she learned that it's just better not to lie to him because usually if he's asking you, he already knows the answer), she didn't expect him to climb through her window and kidnap her on his motorcycle.

Not that this would be the first time he's done something like this.

But at least all those other times he took her _somewhere_ as opposed to today, where they're in the middle of _nowhere_. Seriously, all she sees for miles are trees and mountains and grass and a whole lot of sky.

And, okay, it _is_ a pretty amazing view. She doesn't think she's ever seen so many different shades of greens and browns and blues before, and if that sounds stupid, she's blaming it on the fact that she lives in Gotham and the scenery there is like a collage of grays and black. She can't remember the last time she went out into the wild – well, this for away from the city, anyway – just for the fun of it, and not because the mission they were on happened to be in the middle of nature.

Then when they dismount and he starts rolling the bike into the grass, she hates that all she has to do is see that he's leading them to this spot where there's a blanket spread out and a picnic basket waiting for them underneath a canopy of branches and she's already less mad at him for dragging her all the way out here.

This is probably the single sweetest thing anyone's ever done for her.

Not that she'll tell him that, of course.

"Alfred made our lunch," he tells her as she's sitting down and he's propping the bike against some tree trunks. "So even your high preferences should be satisfied."

She scoffs. "_My_ high preferences? You know, I highly doubt you're in any position to judge me and my preferences considering that you're the one who lives in a mansion and has a family butler, Wonder Bread. Or, I'm sorry, do you prefer _Master Richard_?"

He arches an eyebrow at her and looks way too amused.

She frowns. "You were trying to get me worked up, weren't you?" she asks. _God_, she doesn't know what annoys her more: the fact that he likes making her angry or the fact that she always falls for it.

"I like it when you're angry. It's sexy," he laughs, and she can't help but crack a smile. Dick's growing up and it's definitely starting to show, but it's still hilarious to hear him say anything a typical teenager would because, you know, he's never been a typical _anything_ in his life. But underneath all that change, he'll always be her dorky little Robin.

And did she just call him _her_ Robin? _Crap_.

She grabs the picnic basket and starts pulling everything out as a distraction. "So, do I even want to know how you set this up before we even got here?" she asks.

He grins. "Well, that's easy: I'm _me_." She rolls her eyes. Honestly, she pretty much expected an answer like that. Then he sets his hands on his waist, turns to look up at the sky. "Do you think we should move? The shade will probably pass over us in an hour or two. There's—"

"We're fine, Dick," she says, and he smiles wider like he always does when she uses his name. Well, nickname. "Take your glasses off."

He brings his hand up to his face and laughs a little like he forgot he was even wearing shades. She might not be surprised if he did considering how often he wears them, but this is Dick and it wouldn't be like him to forget anything. He slides them off, squints a bit and shakes his hair like he does so that it looks perfectly messy as it falls. This wouldn't be the first time she's been jealous of how easy his hair is to manage, especially in comparison to hers.

(She remembers telling him that she wanted to cut it shorter to make it more manageable, and then he reached over and pushed his fingers through it and told her that he liked her hair the way it was.)

(She's glad she didn't cut it.)

When she meets his bright blue eyes, she bites her lower lip to keep from smiling too widely. It doesn't really do much to stop it, but whatever. His eyes are kind of _gorgeous_.

"Seriously, though, maybe we should move? So we don't have to later. Maybe we could…"

She sighs a little, gets up on her knees and pulls him down by his hood so she can press their lips together. What? She needed him to stop talking, because he brought her to this amazing place so that they could have a picnic and she wants to enjoy it instead listening to him worry about too much exposure to the sun. And, okay, maybe she just enjoys kissing him, too. He's gotten really, really good at it and she pretty much taught him most of what he knows. And she likes that he's never kissed anyone the way he kisses her. It's not that she's jealous or anything.

She just doesn't want anyone else to have him.

When he pulls back, she's breathing a little bit harder and he's grinning and staring right back at her.

"Right. Let's eat."

She laughs and relinquishes his hood, and he sits down beside her and starts pulling out the rest of the food from the basket. "On one condition, though," she says, and he pauses to look at her, one eyebrow crooked. "I get to drive next."

"How would that work, exactly? You don't know the way home." But he's smirking like he already knows her answer.

"Who said anything about going home?"


	5. drabble 5

**Pairing:** Dick/Zatanna  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Word Count:** ~1,500  
**Inspiration:** media. tumblr. moc/ tumblr _ m82dbeDLBt1qhxhiz. jpg  
-_Just reverse "moc" to "com" and delete the spaces (:_

* * *

He hates those heels.

Seriously, he hates them. They're this burgundy color with violet undertones that look gorgeous on her and make her look totally sexy – sexier than she normally is, which is _saying something_ – and seeing her in them is just the biggest distraction from this meeting, _ever_.

And she still would've been distracting without them, but right now it's just kind of unbearable.

She probably doesn't even know how tempting she's being, either, because she's crazy most of the time and doesn't seem to see the same woman as he does when she looks in her mirror. Honestly, right now she has one leg crossed over the other and is twirling a pen in her hand and pressing her lips together every few minutes, and he doesn't know how she could ever look at herself and not see someone beautiful. Well, her modesty is probably where half of her charm comes from to begin with, but…

_God_, he can't think straight right now.

A little less than half an hour later (which goes by way too slowly, in his opinion), he's swiping the card key into place and opening the door to their hotel room. It's a good thing that this meeting took place over dinner and that dinner was in the restaurant of the hotel, because he honestly would not have lasted a cab ride.

He has her back against the door as soon as he gets it shut, his lips sliding over hers as he parts them with his tongue.

She shifts against him and moans, tries to twist her head away. "Dick, what's—" she breathes, but he grasps her chin and turns her to face him again and cuts her off with another kiss.

This time, though, she just giggles a little and pushes her tongue against his, kissing him back for what feels like forever before parting their kiss for a second time. "Well that was _interesting_," she says, and he laughs a little breathlessly and follows her past the little sitting area and into the bedroom. "You could barely keep your hands off of me in the elevator and now you attack me with a kiss?"

"You make it sound like you didn't enjoy it."

She rolls her eyes and plops down on the bed, crossing her ankles. "Well, I didn't say _that_…" He chuckles, presses their lips together again and feels her hum against them. Then she pulls away again and laughs again. "Seriously, what is with you today?"

"I'm miles and miles away from all of that stress back home, staying in a hotel room in Paris with my beautiful girlfriend who doesn't want to kiss me."

"That's quite a dilemma you got there, Mr. Grayson."

He smiles at her, hand sliding over her back and tugging the zipper of her dress down little by little. "Did I forget to mention the part where my beautiful girlfriend who doesn't want to kiss me is also wearing these heels that make her look even sexier than usual and is the biggest distraction ever to company meetings I might've had to pay attention to?"

"You might've left that little detail out," she says, giving him this _smile_ as he feels her pulling him closer and wrapping her legs around his waist.

He sets a hand on her knee, slides it up her leg and underneath the hem of her dress and groans a little when he realizes that she's not wearing panties. He slips her dress up and over her head and tugs open the clasp of her bra. "You're going to be the death of me," he murmurs against the swell of her breast, and she shifts beneath him and has her bra off and on the floor in one swift motion, her fingers loosening his tie as he quickly unbuttons his shirt. Then she leans up a little and presses their lips together, pulling his tie away and pushing off his shirt and tossing them to the floor. "Now you want to kiss me, huh?"

She laughs and lays her back flat against the bed again, telling him, "Shut up," before bringing his lips over hers again. He braces a hand against the mattress and tries getting his belt undone with the other, until she pushes his hand away and unbuckles it herself. "You can rewire alien technology with relative ease, but unbuckling your own belt…"

"Shut up," he chuckles, and she pushes his pants and boxers down with her feet. He pulls away to kick them completely off and then makes this noise from the back of his throat as her hand wraps around him and strokes lightly. "_Zee…_"

"Sorry," she says, "I'm just excited."

He laughs breathlessly. "You're also a tease," he tells her, and she shrugs and smiles up at him way too innocently.

He leans over and kisses her, hard, for the umpteenth time today and feels her gasp when he rolls against her unexpectedly and sinks into her. Then he angles his hips a little and pushes entirely in, grazing her spot and making her head fall back against the mattress as her lips part in a moan. He knows this is probably going to be quick, but he's been kind of _dying_ all day and judging by the way her muscles are already so soaked and clenching around him, he thinks it's safe to assume she was in a similar state of mind.

He presses a kiss to her throat, finds her pulse and sucks down on it as he grazes her spot again and feels her arch against him. "_Dick_…" she breathes, rolling her hips against his to meet his thrusts and bury him deeper inside her. He pushes her legs a little further apart and feels her muscles tighten around him. "Oh. _Oh_, god…"

"Let's give our neighbors something to complain about," he whispers, his breath warm against her ear.

Then he rolls his hips, thrusting harder and grinding his pelvis against her and grazing her clit a little, and she slams her hands down on the mattress and _moans_ so loudly that he knows these walls don't smother it.

"Feels so good, Zee," he says, grinding against her again and feeling her shudder. "Did you think about this during the meeting, too?"

She lets out this little mewl from the back of her throat and nods.

"How?" he asks. He slides a hand over her thigh and squeezes over the spot on her leg that always makes her cry out his name and throw her head back in pleasure. She arches against him again, rolling her hips to his pace, but he musters whatever control he has left in him and slows his thrusts, making her whimper and shudder. "Zee?"

"I imagined you, _oh_…" Her head rolls to the side, exhaling a moan as he grinds against her again. "I imagine you bending me over the table and taking me from behind, with your fingers on my—"

Before she says it, though, he reaches between them and swipes his thumb over her sensitive bud.

She cries out, "_Dick_," as her hips snap up against his and her body quivers.

He rolls her clit between his fingers and fists the comforter, massaging her bundle of nerves as he thrusts hard into her again and picks his pace back up. "Close, baby?" he breathes, and she moans, squeezes her eyes shut and nods. He swipes his thumb over her clit again and murmurs, "Come with me," before pressing down on it, and she tips her head back and arches against him as she lets go.

Her muscles clench around him as he comes a few seconds after, and she pulls his face to hers and presses their lips together as they're coming down from their high.

Except, her ankles dig into the small of his back and it actually kind of _hurts_ and he jerks away from the pain, pushing against her and making her quiver again. "Sorry," he says, and then looks down the bed and laughs a little when he realizes that she still has her heels on.

They're both naked and had sex while she was still wearing heels.

She makes this little sound when he pulls out of her, then laughs a little, too. "Maybe I should keep them on," she exhales breathlessly, "since you seem to find me extra sexy in them."

He shakes his head.

"It's the other way around, baby," he says, kissing her soundly on the lips before trailing kisses down her body, stopping at her pelvis. He slides her feet out of the heels and drops them to the floor before laying back over her and kissing her again. "See? You're still extra sexy without them."

She chuckles a little, closes her eyes as he presses a kiss to her cheek. "You really think so?"

"Of course," he says against her skin, and she lets out this little giggle before rolling them over, bracing her hands against the mattress as she smiles at him beneath her. Then he feels her sinking down on him, and he groans and grasps her hips. When he's entirely inside her, she grinds her hips a little and leans forward, pressing their chests together as she whispers into his ear.

"Let's give the neighbors something to complain about."


	6. drabble 6

**Pairing:** Dick/Artemis  
**Rating:** PG  
**Word Count:** ~1,100  
**Inspiration:** media. tumblr. moc/ tumblr _ m83reakgje1qhxhiz. png  
-_Just reverse "moc" to "com" and delete the spaces (:_

* * *

She finds the picture with about a billion others in a box on the high shelf of their closet.

She pulled it out because Jason is turning eighteen and graduating from high school in the same month – screw anyone who thinks that doesn't make her emotional because, seriously, when did her baby grow up? – and she and Dick wanted to put together his sort of collage to put out for his dinner. They rented a hall and invited his friends and their friends and family, and they'll have his graduation picture matted so that people can sign it. They even have somewhat of a program planned for the night. She doesn't even care how much everything's setting them back because it's totally worth it and yes, she and Dick want to do it for Dylan and Anna, too.

So she's sitting on the floor of their den with their pictures spread out around her, trying to organize everything by age, and one falls out from the rest as she's grabbing another handful of photos.

She remembers exactly when this picture was taken.

They'd gone to this carnival in Gotham and Jason was eleven and Dylan was seven, except Dylan was going through this early growth spurt while Jason's growth spurt was delayed, so they looked like they were around the same age rather than a little over three years apart. Surprisingly, the fact that his little sister was probably taller than him didn't seem to bother Jason much. And when it _did_ start to matter to him, he was already growing pretty quickly so he got over it soon enough.

Anyway, she remembers this day pretty clearly because it was the same day she found out she was pregnant with Anna. Dick bought Dylan these heart-shaped sunglasses from a stand and they spent the day going on all of the rides – they rode their favorites twice – and winning all those carnival games, because _duh_ their kids have perfect aim.

On the way back to the car they stopped by a stand and Dick bought them some soda in those old-fashioned soda pop glasses, and they sat down on a curb and drank them. She doesn't know what Jason and Dylan had been talking about because she hadn't been paying much attention, but then Jason started laughing and put his arm around Dylan while she giggled and took another sip of her soda and luckily Dick still had the camera out, so he snapped a picture of them before they stopped.

Artemis wipes some tears away from the corner of her eyes and sets the picture aside before sorting through the rest.

… …

Dylan's the one to notice the picture where it's framed and sitting on their fireplace mantle, because she's always had her dad's amazing eyes, both literally (they're Dick's same beautiful shade of blue) and figuratively (nothing gets by her; _nothing_).

They're all in the den together while doing their own thing – Anna's helping her fold laundry, Dick has some mission reports to read over, Jason is looking through some paperwork his college sent him, and Dylan's proof-reading her friend's final essay for their English Honors class – when Dylan suddenly gets up and walks over to the fireplace. "What's that?" Jason asks, and everyone else's attention is already on her by the time she picks the frame up and turns it for them to see.

"Oh man," Dick laughs, "I remember when we took that."

Dylan smiles and hands it over to Anna when she reaches for it. "I was your age in that picture, Dove," Dylan tells her.

"What made you dig this up, Mom?" Jason asks.

She sees Dick shoot her a look from the corner of her eye – Jason knows about the party, obviously, but they haven't told him anything else about it – and she just shrugs a little. "Can't I be nostalgic and emotional?"

"Mom."

"I'm serious," Artemis says. "This is all very traumatic for me, even if I don't show it." Jason smiles and walks over to her, moves the laundry aside so he can sit beside her on the floor and wrap his arms around her, tucking his chin over her shoulder like he used to when he was little. Oh, god. "Stop trying to make me cry."

"That's the fun part, though," he laughs, and instead of watering up like she did earlier today, she rolls her eyes. Honestly, he's just like his father.

… …

It's sitting on hers and Dick's bed the day Jason moves out.

He actually tears up a little when he hugs her in the middle of the kitchen and says that he'll see her soon. Dylan and Anna are going with him to help him unpack, and she and Dick are going to drive over there with the rest of his stuff when they leave. She doesn't cry, but she did a lot of crying during his graduation ceremony and then at his family dinner for his birthday and after the party they have for him at the hall, so she thinks maybe she did all of her crying then to prepare for today. It's kind of a stupid thing to think, but whatever.

And she doesn't know how or when they snuck this into her room, because they spent most of the morning after breakfast loading everything into his car, but the box is there when she walks into their master bedroom.

It's wrapped in baby blue (the crisp, almost creepily accurate wrapping tells her that it's Dylan's handiwork) with a white bow (definitely Anna's suggestion) stuck on the corner, with "_To: Mom and Dad_" and "_Love: Jaybird, Birdie, and Dove_" written in Sharpie (and in Jason's handwriting) on the tag.

She unwraps carefully, peeling the bow off and setting it aside with the tag before lifting off the top.

Once the tissue paper is out of the way, she finds herself staring back at her kids. They're sitting on that same curb, each holding a glass Coca-Cola bottle with a colored straw stuck inside, and Dylan and Anna are wearing matching pairs of heart-shaped sunglasses while Jason has a bandana wrapped around his neck and a baseball cap on his head. Anna's sitting on Jason's lap while Jason has an arm around Dylan, and they're all laughing with their glass bottles clinking together between them.

An arm wraps around her waist from behind, and she feels Dick's chest against her back as he leans over her shoulder and looks down at the picture frame. He chuckles a little then grasps her chin, turns her to look at him and presses their lips together as his thumb brushes over the corner of her eye. She hadn't even realized that they'd begun to water again.

"Our kids are the best," he says, and she laughs because it's completely true.


	7. drabble 7

**Pairing:** Wally/Artemis  
**Rating:** PG  
**Word Count:** ~1,100  
**Inspiration:** media. tumblr. moc/ tumblr _ m846cf9Sql1qhxhiz. jpg  
-_Just reverse "moc" to "com" and delete the spaces (:_

* * *

When everything goes up in flames and he storms out of the Cave, it's her fault.

Of course it's her fault.

And of course she doesn't realize what's happened until she's left standing alone in the middle of the training platform. It makes her think of the last time he left her standing on that platform, after the mission in New Orleans that ended with the bad guys disappearing and no case in their possession. That night had been her fault, too.

Wally just asked her to leave the hero life behind and go to school with him, and she called him crazy before stopping to think what everything was supposed to mean.

She's known for a while now that Wally planned on giving up crime-fighting to focus on school as soon as he started college.

Honestly, how could she forget? It's been _that_ conversation ever since he brought it up; the conversation that makes them all tense and quiet because neither knows what to say. Well, _she_ doesn't know what to say, because this sort of adrenaline rush has been part of her life for as long as she could remember. Even before Jade left, her Dad used her mom's accident as an excuse to train them so that they could "be prepared" for the world. And Wally knows this, too, so why is he asking her to leave it behind?

But she knows that's not _all_ he's asking.

He's asking her to still be part of his life, because they both know if he gives it up and she doesn't, it'll be close to impossible for them to be together.

"So Wally popped the question, huh?" a voice asks, echoing in the too large, too silent room.

Robin's standing beside her with his arms folded across his chest and the whites of his mask staring right at her. For a fleeting second, she wants to be mad at him for not giving her a warning. He knows her better than anyone else, surprisingly enough – because they're actually more alike than you'd expect – and he should've known she would've…

Well, that she would've handled it as horribly as she did.

But she just sighs and nods, puts her hands on her hips and closes her eyes to keep from crying like she wants to.

He loops his arm with hers and tugs her all the way into the kitchen and sits her on a barstool, and neither says say anything until they each have a mug of hot chocolate in their hands and he's sitting down on the barstool beside hers.

"How could he ask me to do that?" She doesn't know why she's whispering, but she doesn't know where everyone else is at the moment and she'd rather them not find out what happened while she's still not so sure herself. "He knows how much this means to me – to be fighting crime instead of becoming what my dad wanted. How…"

"He _does_ know that," Robin interrupts. "But he also thinks that you have the choice to get out of both. He thinks you deserve a peaceful, normal life." She watches him grip the edges of the counter and lean as far back as he can, staring up at the ceiling. "Personally, I don't get the appeal."

"Seriously," she exhales. "And Wally used to _love_ this more than anything in the world."

Robin tips his head to look at her.

"He loves _you_ more than anything in the world," he says simply, casually, making her swallow her gulp of hot chocolate _hard_. "Look. Obviously he finds something magical about having a mundane, civilian life, and he wants to share it with you." Then he pulls himself upright, takes his mug in his hand and slides off of the barstool and onto his feet. "He just wants to know that you love him enough to want to share it with him, too."

He shrugs his shoulders a little, and she watches him sip his hot chocolate as he walks away.

… …

To be honest, she's kind of terrified to knock on the door.

She's been sitting on one of the swings at the park across the street from his house for about ten minutes now. Her face is numb from the cold and she's shivering a little and she already knows that there are millions of flakes in her hair, but she can't bring herself to walk over there. She absolutely sucks at this sort of stuff and having to talk things out and has always been – this whole mess is just proof enough – and Wally can be pretty emotionally volatile sometimes, and she's just scared that if she sees him and tries to talk about it now, it'll just make everything worse.

When she finally works up the nerve to move from her spot, almost twenty-five minutes since she arrived, she doesn't even make it to the front steps. She wonders if his family is in there and watching her, but even if Wally was mad at her and they knew about it, if they saw her outside in this weather then they would've made her come in by now.

She sees his car parked in front of his mother's in the driveway, and it's covered in a layer of snow like every other car on the block. She goes through the words longer than she'd like to admit until she finally writes "_We should talk_" on the windshield and walks away before his family actually _does_ see her.

… …

Her mother is out with friends for the night, and she's buried under a blanket and drinking tea to warm up while watching one of her favorite black and white Vietnamese films as a distraction. It's a story about these two girls growing up and their friendship surviving things like family tension and separation and whatnot. It was hers and Jade's favorite, and she's crying at the same parts she always cries at and, for a while, she actually stops thinking about Wally and everything that happened today.

Until there's a knock at the door and she pauses the film, wraps the blanket around herself (it's _cold_ because the building's heater broke, so usually her mom goes out and she'll go to Wally's, but…) and goes to answer it.

Wally's standing on the other side.

There're two Starbucks drinks and a plastic Target bag she can see is full of snacks sitting on top of a box at his feet, and when she furrows her eyebrows at it, he shrugs a little and says, "It's a space heater. My mom pulled it out of the garage when I told her I was coming over."

She nods because she doesn't know what to say to that, or to him being here.

Then he asks, "Can I…?" and she smiles, nods a little and doesn't care how stupidly hopeful she must look when she pushes the door entirely open and steps aside to let him in.


	8. drabble 8

**Pairing:** Dick/Zatanna  
**Rating:** PG  
**Word Count:** ~700  
**Inspiration:** media. tumblr. moc/ tumblr _ m85ej6VdJx1qhxhiz. jpg  
-_Just reverse "moc" to "com" and delete the spaces (:_

* * *

She used to doodle on her wrist in class a lot because she'd get bored pretty quickly during lessons. Then when she was transferred to a Catholic school because it offered honors courses at younger grade levels, she used her wrist to jot down her homework assignments and it sort of became her place to write quick notes and reminders and whatnot. Pieces of paper could easily get lost but if it was stuck on her skin, she _had_ to see it eventually. Her dad used to lecture her, too, about how it's dangerous and how she could get skin cancer, which, _yes_, she knew, but she spelled her pens so that the ink was harmless and couldn't absorb into her skin.

Of course, she couldn't tell her dad that because he already disapproved of her practicing magic without him knowing. He's afraid she'll learn spells to sneak out and stuff.

(But she actually _did_, so it's not like his suspicions were wrong, either.)

The first time she thinks about getting a tattoo is shortly after her dad became Dr. Fate.

She wouldn't exactly need parental permission, because she could just draw something and permanently spell it on. And if she really regretted it later on in life, she doubts it would be too hard for her to magically remove it, either. But she talks herself out of it, because she knows that the only reason she wants one is because her dad wouldn't like it and she's just trying to get his attention.

She doesn't think about it again until Maria's over six months old.

She's not entirely sure why she thinks it's such an amazing idea all of a sudden, but she books the appointment for an insignificant Tuesday and goes while Dick's at work and Maria's with her grandparents for the day, because she already planned to do errands and they're supposed to go over for dinner, anyway.

When they're getting ready to head over to the mansion, Dick (gently) grabs her wrist and turns it with the gauze facing up and she realizes she didn't even tell him about it.

"I got a tattoo," she says needlessly.

"I see," he laughs. "And not that I think you have to get my permission to do anything, but can I ask why?"

She shrugs her shoulders. "It just seemed fitting. I mean, I think I had a more monumental thought process behind it in my head, but…"

He chuckles. "And I'm sure it would've moved me to tears," he tells her, and she can tell that he means it. Then he sets his hand on the curve of her hip and kisses her in the middle of their kitchen. "Can I see it?"

Maria's almost two years old when she finally notices it herself.

They're sitting on the couch with Maria in her lap and Dick's arms around the both of them as they're reading one of those toddler fairytale books, and she notices that Maria is distracted from the colorful pictures in front of her. The little girl traces her small fingers over the black silhouettes of the two flying birds on her mother's wrist and giggles a little, then hides her face behind her little hands for a few seconds before peeking over her fingers at them. Honestly, Maria is too adorable for words.

"They're pretty, aren't they, Maria?" Dick asks. She nods and pulls her hands away from her face. "Do you know what they are?"

"Robins?" Maria asks, and they both laugh a little. It's always a little bit hilarious that their daughter learned the word _robin_ before _bird_, so she just generally calls anything with wings a _robin_ unless she asks what it is. They usually correct her and sometimes she'll remember, but she'll always call them robins first. It's cute.

"They're birds, Starburst." (The nickname came from a very long story involving her pregnancy cravings and a midnight detour to 7-11.)

"Birds," Maria echoes.

"Mhmm," Dick hums. "They stand for Mommy's two loves. See? This one is you," he explains, tracing his thumb lightly over one of the birds before dragging it over the other, "and this one is Daddy."

Maria puts her hand over the tattoo again, and Zatanna knows exactly what she's doing when she says, "I'll have to make an appointment in a few months to get another bird." Dick kind of pauses and then turns to look at her, eyes a little wide, and she shrugs her shoulders and bites her lower lip. She doesn't know why Maria's so quiet, but it's probably because they're being quiet.

"You…" He trails off, exhales a laugh.

She smiles and Maria giggles because her dad did.

"I'm pregnant."


	9. drabble 9

**Pairing: **Dick/Zatanna  
**Rating:** PG  
**Word Count:** ~800  
**Inspiration:** the_ Inception_ 'verse

* * *

The warehouse is too cold and too empty for her liking, but she hasn't been able to tear herself from this sketch.

The basic look of the cathedral sort of came to her when she was getting ready to leave and so she sat down and started drawing to not lose the image. But then she started penciling in all of the detail and began mentally rearranging the layout of the city so that it could fit in inconspicuously, and three hours later it's midnight and she's barely moved an inch from her seat. She's sure she can add some sort of safe house inside or underground or something so she'll have an excuse to add this to the second level.

Maybe Wally's right. She may have a problem.

But she can't help that creating dreamscapes is so _addicting_. In the past year since he'd recruited her, she's created architectural feats that never could've been possible in the real world: entire cities of ancient ruins and elaborate labyrinths and paradoxical structures, and all with so much detail that the reality of the dream is chilling.

Wally had only needed her exceptional talents for that one job, but as soon as she created that first plaza – dull and minute in comparison to everything she's capable of now – it was impossible to just walk away.

Conner says that her ability to completely submerge herself in her work is a gift, but honestly, it can be a curse, too. Time slips away too easily when she starts drawing.

And she becomes too oblivious to the world around her.

"Glad to know I'm not the only nocturnal one on this team," a voice comments.

She sucks in a gasp and nearly drops her pencil as her head snaps up, and Dick is standing there, his hands in his pockets and that smile on his face that always makes her feel like he knows something she doesn't. That wouldn't be too far-fetched, though, since he's the Point Man. It's his job to know everything.

Still. Sometimes she feels like that smile _means_ something, like he's daring her to try and find out what he's hiding.

And maybe someday she will. After all, secrets are their business.

But it's already late tonight and now that her hand's stopped moving and her mind's stopped sketching, she's beginning to feel the exhaustion sink in.

"What are you doing here?"

He gives her an amused look, pulling a hand out of his pocket and reaching for hers. She's confused for a second until he's turning her hand over so that the lead smudges on her skin are visible under the light from the lamp over their heads. "I'd ask you the same question, but I wouldn't be much of a Point Man if I didn't already know, now would I?"

"Not necessarily," she says with a grin. "You just take your job too seriously."

"There's no such thing," he corrects, pulling his hand away. (She tries not to look disappointed at that.) "Anything can make or break a job."

She nods.

Of course she knows this. It hasn't happened on any of the jobs she's been part of – probably _because_ their team is that serious about getting it right – but the others have told her some horror stories of jobs that went wrong from previous teams they've been on.

Their business is hard enough while international governments are always on the lookout, so it makes it damn near impossible if you're not careful.

"Besides," he adds, "You're just as guilty as I am. If anything, you're a better Architect than I am a Point Man."

This time she _does_ blush.

"Having memory as perfect as yours is what's impressive, Dick," she says with a shaky laugh. She doesn't know why that sounded like it was more than a compliment from a co-worker, or why she suddenly feels nervous when he reaches for her sketchbook. "I'm just an architect. Hundreds of people go to school and become architects."

"Maybe, but none of them are you." His lips curve into a smile, eyes taking in the details of the cathedral. "Only someone like you can create such beautiful works of art like this."

"Someone like me?" she echoes softly.

He meets her eyes.

"Someone whose emotions breathe her work to life," he tells her, "Someone whose architecture has personalities and stories."

She bites her lower lip, feeling strange without her sketchbook on her lap to cling to.

She should be scared, because no one's ever gotten that before. Her work _is_ personal to her. Everything has bits and pieces of her in them and since she couldn't contain them, she hid them in plain sight. And Dick has been _seeing_ these parts of her all along, which should be the scariest thing of all.

But he has her sketchbook in his hands and the fact that she's choosing to trust him with everything she put on those pages doesn't scare her a bit.

So she asks, "Would you like to hear those stories?" and he smiles at her like he knows exactly what this means to both of them.

"I'd love to."


	10. drabble 10

**Pairing: **Gar/Greta  
**Rating:** PG  
**Word Count:** ~900  
**for:** greenshapeshifter (on tumblr)

* * *

He knows not being able to control her abilities yet frustrates her. She practices all the time with Green Lantern and she's getting the hang of it, but it's hard because no one really knows the extent of her abilities or how they work. And it's the first time the League is dealing with something like this, so they're all kind of just guessing as they go along.

But she's gotten a lot better now compared to how she first started out.

Anyway, he's walking through the training platform from the gym (he and Tim were using the equipment as a jungle gym before Black Canary came to get him for something) when Greta walks out of the wall, smiling.

She's _pretty_.

"You did it!" someone says proudly, and that's when Gar notices Green Lantern is there as well. He doesn't really know what's so impressive – she's a _ghost_ and it's cool that she phases through everything, but she's always been able to go that – until he sees her hand something to Green Lantern.

It's a remote control for the TV in the living room, which is on the other side of the wall she just stepped out of. Gar smiles as he realizes what that means.

She was able to make an object as intangible as her.

"And everything's still in place," Green Lantern adds, tilting the remote in his hands as he's inspecting it. "That's amazing, Greta."

Gar thinks he sees Greta blush. Can ghosts even blush?

"Thank you" she mouths.

Then her eyes shift and meet Gar's, and he waves at her. She smiles a little wider, and Green Lantern follows her gaze and grins as well. "Hey, Gar," he greets as Gar makes it over to them. "Did you see what Greta just did?" He holds up the remote and looks every bit as proud as he sounds.

"Yeah," Gar tells him, and turns to Greta and adds, "You're getting really good. Pretty soon you'll be going on missions with us!"

"That's the idea." Green Lantern hands Gar the remote. "Well, I think we've gotten pretty far today, don't you, Greta?" She nods. "I should probably get going now."

"League stuff?"

"Carol stuff," he replies with a chuckle. Gar's not going to ask who Carol is, because the way Green Lantern says her name is a big giveaway.

"Okay. Then have fun on your date."

Green Lantern laughs now. "Thanks, kid," he says, ruffling Gar's hair, and then turns his head and smiles at Greta. "I'll see you again, same time tomorrow?" Greta nods again, smiling enthusiastically. She's _really_ pretty when she smiles. "You were awesome today, kid."

For a second, it looks like Green Lantern is about to hug her, but he thinks better of it. Gar thinks that must suck at least a little, that he can't even give her a hug or ruffle her hair or pat her shoulder to show how proud he is. Gar knows Green Lantern must say it often, but still. It would be even better if he was able to _show_ it, too.

They watch as Green Lantern zetas out. Once he's gone, Gar looks at Greta again. "He's a pretty cool mentor, huh?"

She nods. He almost hears her say, _He's the best_.

"Seems like it," he agrees. "Seriously, you'll be joining us on missions in no time! We're going to wonder what we ever did without you."

Her eyes are shining. They seem to ask, _You really think so?_

"Definitely. I mean, look what you did with this?" He twirls the remote in his hand. "When you're able to do that with other kinds – like people – imagine how many lives you'll be able to save. Not just civilians, but the Team, too! And imagine everyone's reaction when you suddenly appear, and you're the pretty little girl who's really powerful!"

She brings a hand up to cover her mouth as if she was giggling, and he flashes a wide, toothy smile. He can almost hear her laughter.

"I was going to go outside for a walk. Did you want to come?"

_I'd like that._

"Then let's go!" He twirls the remote in his hand again. "Just let me put this back."

He starts walking towards the hallway, but then he hears a gentle voice call out, "_Secret_," and he turns to look at her again. He thinks this is the first time he's heard her voice. Then she holds her hand up, and he furrows his eyebrows a little.

"You want to put it back?"

He starts to hand the remote back to her but, but she shakes her head, pointing to his other hand before holding hers up again. He's confused, but when she reaches for his hand, he feels something cold brush his skin and they both kind of freeze. It wasn't just cold, it was cold and _solid_.

"Did you just…" His voice trails off as she stares at her own hand. "Is that what you wanted to try?"

She nods once, holding her hand up again.

He reaches for hers slowly. He's not really sure why he's holding his breath, but then he feels her fingertips and it feels cool as he flattens his palm against hers. He lets out an amazed laugh, and she's smiling widely. He feels it as he sees her threading her fingers through his and squeezes ever so slightly. He feels that, too.

The feeling disappears before she pulls her hand away, but they're both kind of in awe because of what just happened.

"You can make yourself tangible," he says needlessly. "That's so _cool!_"

She giggles again, and he just beams at her because he hears it this time and her voice is even prettier than he imagined.


	11. drabble 11

**Pairing: **Dick/Zatanna**  
Rating:** T  
**Word Count:** ~500  
**for:** an anon  
**Inspiration:** "Sooner" by Andrew Allen & "Trouble" by Chris Rene

* * *

Their laughter drowns out in the sound of the rain coming down, hard, over their heads, and they're splashing water everywhere as they run through the puddles on the sidewalk. He _knew _it was going to rain today, too – _he_ _knew – _but it's kind of unseasonably warm out today like it's been all week and Zatanna convinced him that they didn't need an umbrella.

So of course it starts pouring when they're already halfway between her house and the park.

And he's totally telling her that he told her so as soon as they stop getting rained on.

When they reach her townhouse, he sort of stalls at the bottom of the steps while she jogs up and gets her keys in the knob, pushing the door open as soon as it's unlocked. She looks over her shoulder at him and then rolls her eyes. "The house is empty, remember?" She's a little breathless. "My dad left when we did."

"He could've come back," he reminds, though he's mostly teasing. Bruce is holding a League meeting right now and there's a very, very slim chance that Zatara got out of going.

"Just get inside before you catch something."

He chuckles and complies, jogging up the steps and meeting her at the top.

As soon as he's inside, she pushes the door shut with both of her hands resting on the wood beside his shoulders, his back pressing against the door while she's pressed up against his chest. They're both panting a little, still trying to catch their breaths from the running they just did, and she looks up at him from underneath her long lashes.

He recognizes that dangerous sparkle in her eyes.

"No," he laughs.

"And why not?" she asks. She reaches for the hem of her shirt, but he stops her, still laughing. "It's wet. I'll get sick if I keep it on."

"That's just an urban legend," he informs, rubbing rainwater into the inside of her wrist with his thumb. "Besides, your dad's going to kill me if he finds us."

"I wouldn't let him kill you." He grins, pushes her wet bangs from her face. "Please?"

He really shouldn't be going along with her, but honestly, he's having a hard time resisting, too. She slips her wrist free from his grasp and tugs her shirt over her head, and it makes a wet sound when she drops it against the hardwood floor. She's standing in front of him with dark-washed denim shorts and a lacy dark blue bra.

"'Tanna," he groans, grasping her waist and pulling her against him as close as physically possible. "You're going to get us in trouble."

"It'll be worth it," she says, running her fingers along the contours of his abs as she's pushing his shirt up, and he just laughs because, yeah, it always is. He lifts his arms up and lets her pull his shirt off, dropping it to the floor with hers, and she pushes her fingers into his wet, tangled hair as she kisses him.

He hums against her lips, flipping them so she's the one pressed between him and the door, and she sort of arches up against him. When his hand comes between them, grasping the front of her shorts, he feels her pull a hand from his hair before fumbling with the lock. Because, no, this wouldn't be the first or even fifth time they've ended up in this position.

He just hopes it'll be the first time they don't have to narrowly avoid getting caught.


	12. drabble 12

**Pairing: **Wally/Artemis**  
Rating:** NC-17ish  
**Word Count:** ~800  
**Inspiration:** _ImagineYourOTP: Imagine Person A of your OTP meeting Person B's parents for the first time, and being really nervous about it. Person B's dad looks at Person A, then turns to their own kid and says, "you picked a good one." Person A laughs, relieved that they have parental approval._

And on an unrelated note, I'm rekindling my Kink Meme! So feel free to submit more prompts (look to my profile for guidelines). It's not a requirement but I encourage non-Spitfire pairings because I still have plenty of them from the last time ;)

* * *

Wally keeps telling her that she doesn't have to make a big deal out of this and she keeps telling him to shut up. Honestly, she's never been great with first impressions—all of hers have been _horrible_, really, because she either comes off as too strong or too awkward—and this one?

It's kind of a _big deal_.

"Artemis," he says with a laugh.

He sounds almost _patronizing_, like she's being silly and her reaction is amusing to him, and she glares at him to make sure that she doesn't appreciate it.

He holds his hands up in a gesture of surrender, though he's still got that smile on his face. "You have nothing to be worried about," he tells her. She frowns and he kisses the crease that forms between her eyebrows, sets his hands at her waist and kneels so that he's eye-level with her while she's sitting on the edge of the bed. "Babe, you're overreacting."

"It's your parents, Wally." She says it slowly because she's pretty sure he's not getting how important they are—and how important it is that, as his girlfriend, they like her.

"They'll love you," he says simply, surely. "I know I do."

"How do you know?"

Wally frowns this time. "What?"

She rolls her eyes. "I'm talking about your parents, Wally," she clarifies and then smiles despite herself. "And I love you, too."

"See? Then you have nothing to worry about."

She laughs because he's not making sense, and he grins at her. He kisses her once, twice, three times, and if it's to distract her from all the nerves she's got in her system right now, it works. She pushes her fingers into his hair and kisses him back. Eventually, though, she pulls her lips from his and tries to ignore how the sound of his groan makes her feel.

"Your parents…"

"You have nothing to worry about," he says for the billionth time.

"Wally," she breathes, and how breathless it comes out has less to do with her nerves and more to do with the fact that he just unbuttoned her jeans. He licks along her collarbone and she grabs his biceps, squeezing hard.

"Trust me." He pushes her jeans and panties down her legs and kisses her hip. "Don't you trust me?"

Then he has his mouth on her and she's moaning, "_Yes_," for an entirely different reason.

(Again, if this is a distraction, it _works_.)

She stands on the front steps of his house an hour and a half later (they're late, for obvious reasons) with their fingers laced between them and her best Look How Nervous I'm Not smile on as the door's being pulled open and his parents are standing on the other side. Mary gives her this wide, toothy smile that she knows Wally got from her. At first, Rudolph is sort of just looking at her, not exactly frowning or scowling but not exactly _smiling_, either. Or maybe his expression's just muted in comparison to his wife's.

But then he looks at Wally and says, "You picked a good one," and Artemis lets out all of her nerves when she laughs. And Mary and Rudolph either don't notice or don't care how hysteric she sounds, either.

"I know, Dad," Wally says, smiling, his tone filled with so much confidence and adoration that she has to look away to keep from kissing him right then and there.

When they're alone again after dinner, he closes the door to his room behind him once they're inside, a smug grin on his face. "I told you," he practically sings, and she laughs, rolling her eyes. "I was right," he declares, and as much as she hates it when he boasts, she's relieved this time around.

"You were right," she agrees.

He _beams_. Crap. Now she'll _never_ hear the end of it.

"Say it again."

She smiles, reaches behind him to lock the door (his parents said they were watching a movie, but _just in case_…) before looking at him again. "I can say it again," she says slowly, fingers already tugging the zipper of his pants down as she sinks onto her knees, "Or, if you're quite enough, I can do something else you might like better."


	13. drabble 13

**Pairing: **Roy/Jade**  
Rating:** T  
**Word Count:** ~500  
**Inspiration:** _ImagineYourOTP: Imagine your OTP dancing together at a masquerade ball. They can both recognize each other, but it's exciting nonetheless.  
_

Happy New Year, everyone!

* * *

"Well isn't this a surprise."

He stalls his hand, the rim of his glass barely touching his lips as he glances at the woman standing beside him. Her mask was the first thing that caught his eyes when he stepped into the ballroom—an intricate pattern of black lace over bronze satin that matches her dress and frames her face beautifully.

It, however, does nothing to hide her identity… at least, not from him.

He arches an eyebrow, watches her pluck a chocolate-covered strawberry off of the plate.

"Jade," he says.

She _laughs_.

He turns himself to face her, eyes sliding over her figure. He's not exactly subtle about it, either, but he doubts that she minds. In fact, judging by the way her lips curve into this _smile_, he thinks (knows) that she probably likes that he's looking at her.

"Well, I'm sorry if this offends you, but crashing a New Year's Eve party doesn't seem like your style."

"Roy," she says slowly, "We both know that you don't care if I'm offended."

"You don't know that."

"Don't I?"

She tilts her head slightly, looks at him from underneath her eyelashes as she takes a bite of the strawberry. He doesn't know why he's so entranced by this simple thing—how red it looks against her pearly white teeth, the way she swallows and then licks the chocolate from her lips—but there are very few things about this woman that don't fascinate him. Then she steps forward until he can feel the warmth of her breath against his face, one hand sliding into place over his shoulder as the other holds the strawberry against his mouth.

He locks his eyes with hers as he parts his lips, letting her push the rest of the strawberry into his mouth.

She skims her fingertips across his cheek, tracing the edge of his mask, and he sets a hand at the small of her back as she licks the chocolate from his lips. Then she pulls away, and her expression mostly unreadable as she takes the wine from his hand and takes a sip.

"Dance with me."

His voice is low, so much so that he wonders, briefly, if she hadn't heard him. But she raises her eyebrows, not even trying to hide her surprise.

"Asking me to dance?" He presses his hand a little harder against her. "That doesn't seem like your style."

"I feel like I should be offended."

Her eyes practically sparkle. "Don't be."

Then she sets his glass on the tray of a waiter that passes by, slips her hand in his and tugs him towards the dance floor.

Around them, the music starts to grow louder and the crowd starts counting, but he doesn't hear any of it as he sets a hand on her hip and takes her other one in his, pressing her against him until she's as close as physically possible. He'd crossed paths with her countless times throughout the year since he'd gone rogue, searching for the real Roy Harper.

Somehow it makes sense that he's starting the New Year with her.

When it reaches midnight, he doesn't wish her a Happy New Year and neither does she.

He just places his hands on either sides of her face, catching the way her eyelids flutter closed before he kisses her slowly, unlike any kiss they've shared before. It makes him think, briefly, about symbolism, before he loses himself in the flavor of the wine and chocolate on her lips.


	14. drabble 14

**Pairing: **Jaime/Cassie**  
Rating:** PG  
**Word Count:** ~800  
**Inspiration:** _media. tumblr. c-m /6a14b0cc38d2937c3bed71b768ed d0b2/ tumblr_ inline_ mg0ufzFjDh1qhxhiz. jpg_

* * *

**Note: My Valentine's Day meme is up! Check my profile for the forum to leave prompts (:**

* * *

He offers for her to stay with him before even checking with his parents to make sure that it's alright.

He didn't think his mom would mind, anyway. The Cave _blew up_ and left Cassie without a home. Not that that's what he told his parents (they think there'd been a house fire). But he knows his mom wouldn't refuse someone shelter, even if that someone so happened to be a girl. Actually, he thinks his mom was going to faint because she was so happy that her son had a potential girlfriend. He's pretty sure any other parent would've been wary of their child asking a friend of the opposite gender to stay with them, if only for a few days.

Not his mom, though. He was half-convinced she would've married them then and there as soon as Cassie stepped through the door.

And like, _of course_ his mom loves Cassie. It's hard not to.

"Dinner was delicious, Mrs. Reyes. I've never tasted chocolate cake that rich before!"

Jaime nudges Cassie's foot with his behind the breakfast bar, shooting her a grin when she looks at him. "Stop sucking up to my mom," he teases.

Cassie looks like she's about to argue when his mom swats him in the back of his head. "If you keep picking on her, she'll never date you!" she cries, and Jaime feels his cheeks warm for the billionth time since they sat down for dinner. "And at least _someone_ appreciates my cooking."

"I appreciate your cooking!" Jaime protests.

Cassie laughs, starting to stack his plate and utensils atop hers as she says, "Let me help you with the dishes, Tia Bianca."

"Don't be ridiculous! Thanks for the offer, _mija_,but you're our _guest_," his mom laughs. "I can't let you do chores."

"But—"

"Just go hang out with Jaime in your room," his mom says, waving her hand towards the hallway as she starts collecting the dishes. Jaime flushes a little harder, laughing as he shakes his head. Again, any other parent would want them to stay in the living room in plain sight and away from any bedrooms. Not his mom, of course.

Jaime stands up, following Cassie down the hallway and into the guest bedroom that's been turned into her room. His mom bought a nice desk from one of their neighbors, washed a floral comforter that his sister never used and hung twinkling lights (she saw, somewhere, that some girls have them in their rooms) on the wall. Cassie used to travel a lot because her mother was an archaeologist and worked all over the world, and her first real room had been in the Cave, so her eyes had begun to water a little as soon as she walked in.

"I'm sorry that it's not much," his dad had begun to say when they first showed her the room, "but—"

"It's perfect," Cassie said in this quiet voice, eyes sparkling.

And, with that, she'd completely won over his mom and his dad in the same moment. He shouldn't have been surprised.

Cassie picks up her teddy bear, hugging it to her chest as she flops onto the bed. He'd given to her the night she first moved in, because the bigger one she'd won herself at the Happy Harbor street fair was lost in the fire.

"I'm sorry about my mom," Jaime says as he shuts her door. "I bet if it weren't illegal, she'd drive us to the courthouse now and marry us off."

Cassie's cheeks flush a little, but she laughs warmly. "She has quite an active imagination," she agrees, shrugging her shoulders. "I can't wait until she finally breaks out all of your baby photo albums!" Jaime scowls, sitting beside her at the edge of her bed. "But maybe she'd be a little less intense if she knew that we were really… you know—"

"If she knew, then she'd fly us to some foreign country where it _is _legal and have us married right now."

"You wouldn't want to be married to me?"

Jaime feels his insides flip. "No! I mean, I'm sure you'd make an awesome wife and all, but—"

"Jaime," she laughs, setting her hands behind his neck, "We're _teenagers_. We really shouldn't be thinking about that stuff right now. I'm just teasing you."

"Not cool," he mutters.

"You baby." He shakes his head. "Oh, come here."

She brings him closer and kisses him slowly, gently, his hand falling to rest above her knee and his lips tingling as they move against hers. When she pulls away just a bit, he smiles at her, grasps her chin between his fingers and tips her head to kiss the bridge of her nose.

She grins at him, holds the teddy bear against her cheek and moves it as if it were talking as she says, "For the record, I'm sure you'd make a pretty awesome husband."

He laughs softly. "_Gracias, mi __cariño_."


	15. drabble 15

**Pairing: **Jaime/Cassie**  
Rating:** PG  
**Word Count:** ~900**  
Prompt: **band AU**  
For:** madfromamyriad

... ...

She's obviously mad at him. He has no idea what he did, but she hasn't spoken to him since they packed up and left Nashville over four hours ago. And he doesn't know how she's managed to avoid him for so long.

They're on the _same bus_.

But it's about 2:00 in the morning when they pull into the campsite they'll be staying in for tomorrow (or, technically, the rest of today) and he's wide awake.

Luckily so is everyone else, so they set up their sleeping bags on a smooth spot on the ground beside their bus, start a campfire and sort of just mess around. Cassie's making snacks on the bus with their bus driver, Dick, and he's sitting by the campfire with his guitar, strumming an acoustic version of one of their songs as Gar and Bart singing along.

"I _was not!_"

Jaime looks over his shoulder and watches as Cassie shoves Dick's shoulder, the two of them laughing.

"You totally were," Dick teases. Cassie rolls her eyes and Dick leans down to whisper into her ear, making her giggle. Jaime frowns, not really knowing why that makes him upset. It's probably just because Cassie's not talking to him right now.

"Dude," someone says, pushing his arm, and Jaime finds Bart and Gar staring at him, amused.

"You're either not paying attention to what you're doing," Gar begins, "or you're starting to lose your touch."

"I _am not_," Jaime argues.

"Then play the song correctly, man," Bart laughs.

"No," Cassie interrupts, "Because it's time to snack!"

She walks over to them with giant bags of tortilla chips tucked under her arm and cereal bowl full of her famous homemade dip in hand, Dick following behind her with his hands full of battled waters. She hands the chips to Bart and the dip to Gar, then takes the bottled waters from Dick and begins passes them out. She doesn't even look at him when she hands him a water bottle, which is kind of the last straw for him. He's not going to sit here for the next few hours that they're going to be awake and have her blatantly ignoring him.

"Cassie, can we talk for a minute?"

She finally, _finally_, looks at him, but instead of the glare he was expecting (she's supposedly _mad_ at him), she looks… _hurt_. He wasn't expecting that.

"Jaime—"

"Please, Cass," he says.

She exhales a little and nods, beginning to follow him as he starts walking away from the campfire. He leads her around the bus so that they're mostly away from the others and turns to look at her. She crosses her arms, looking away into the darkened trees. He's really tired of her not looking at him.

"What is it?"

"Nothing," she mumbles.

"Cassie, come on." He reaches for her arm, touching her gently above her elbow. "What's wrong? You've been avoiding me since Nashville."

"I haven't."

"You have. What did I do?"

She meets his eyes, and he really shouldn't think that she looks cute when she's pouting. But then she says, "I'd really wish you'd cut that out," and he frowns at her. "Oh, don't give me that look," she mutters, glaring a little now, "Watching girls throw themselves at you is bad enough, but if you're going to take advantage, I don't want to see it."

"I don't take advantage of anything, Cass," he protests. She gives him a look. "Okay, I'm a little flirty with fans, but we all are! It's good publicity."

"Being friendly and flirty is one thing," she says, "but _kissing_ them—"

"That's what this is about?"

"Yes, that's what this is about!" She practically stomps her foot when she snaps. "I don't need to see that kind of stuff, Jaime."

"_You_ don't need to see that stuff? Do you think I enjoy watching you flirt with Dick?"

She blinks. "What? I don't _flirt_ with Dick! He's our _driver!_"

He frowns at her, watching as she shakes her head in frustration, cheeks flushed with anger. He hates that he still finds her cute even when he's mad at her—except, he's not really _mad_ at her at all. He's just mad that she looks as beautiful as she does and all of these fans get to flirt with her but he can't because she's his band mate and…

Oh, god. He _likes _her.

Well, he's liked her ever since they first auditioned her nearly a year ago. She's funny and compassionate and she's like the band's mom.

Except he's an idiot and he's never noticed that he's liked her as _more_ than a friend for a while now. And she's looking up at him from underneath her long eyelashes, standing there in her flannel shorts and one of their band tees that she cut into a tank top, and he has this overwhelming urge to _kiss_ her.

So he does.

He cradles her face in his hands and kisses her, his thumb smoothing over the apple of her cheek. She makes this surprised sound in the back of her throat but kisses him back, hands combing between them to grasp his button-down between her fingers.

She breathes, "Jaime," as soon as she pulls her lips away from his, but he kisses her again. "Jaime," she laughs against his lips, turning her head away, "Hold on."

"Why?"

"Just…" She exhales, and he puts a hand over hers where it's pressed against his chest. "If this is just so I stop being mad at you—"

"It's not," he says, meaning it. "I just… I didn't realize it until—"

"If you're going to quote lyrics from our own song …" They both laugh. "Just kiss me again."

So he does.


	16. drabble 16

**Pairing: **Tim/Steph**  
Rating:** PG-13?  
**Word Count:** ~600**  
Prompt: **alone in the cave, having a movie night

... ...

"I'm still not dry yet," she complains as she walks into the kitchen, rubbing a towel against her hair. "Of course it's just our luck that it would start pouring the five minutes we had to wait outside for the zeta transporter to warm up."

"A little storm is hardly the toughest thing we've ever faced," he reminds.

She rolls her eyes. "You don't have to be so diplomatic about everything, you know."

"It's a gift."

She laughs and yanks open the fridge, leaning over slightly to see what's inside, and _no_, he doesn't have a good view of her from here because he's _not looking at her like that_. Even though, yes, he knows she's beautiful. And she's even more beautiful to him like this, in these dark gray sweats and a white tee with paint streaked across the back.

He's seen her in uniform and costume, workout clothes and an evening dress, but there's just something about seeing her like this that makes him think…

Well, she looks _comfortable_ and relaxed, and it makes him think that she'd probably dress like this a lot around the house. And _that_ makes him think that she'd probably (definitely) be an amazing wife to come home to someday, beautiful in her sweats and always so cheerful.

He needs to stop thinking about her like that.

"So," she says, pulling out a pitcher of iced tea and setting it on the kitchen island, "Why is the Cave so quiet today?"

"Because we're alone," he replies. She arches an eyebrow at him and opens the cabinet, taking two glasses off of the shelf. "Do you really want me to go into detail as to where everyone disappeared to?"

"I'd rather you didn't." He laughs, watching as she fills both glasses and slides one to him. "So," she says, leaning over the counter and bringing their faces merely inches apart, quirking an eyebrow suggestively, "what are we going to do with all our free time?"

"Steph," he breathes.

She laughs, pulling away just a little. "I'm just messing with you, Tim. There are security cameras all over the place, anyway. It's not like we could actually do anything _fun_."

His cheeks grow warmer. "Stephanie…"

"Gross," she groans, "Why are you calling me by my full name?"

"No reason." She rolls her eyes and puts the pitcher back. "So, what did you want to do?"

She taps her finger to her chin and he smiles at how cute she's being. "Well," she says, "I know for a fact that Cassie queued up all of the _Twilight _movies on our Netflix account, and if you scrap together some popcorn and candy from the cabinet that Bart hasn't devoured yet, we can watch them all. I could use a good laugh and some eye candy."

He shakes his head, amused. "Why do _I_ have to get the food?"

"Because I got the drinks," she practically sings, taking their glasses as she walks towards the living room, smirking at him from over her shoulder.

He laughs.

And they only get to the part where Bella dreams about making out with Edward in her room in the middle of the night when she pushes their bowl of popcorn from his lap. He begins to ask she's doing, but then she gives him that _smile_ of hers and presses her knees against his leg, bringing herself closer to him.

"They'll find out."

"If the Team hasn't figured out about us by now," she says against her lips, "then they need to get their eyes checked."

"Not everyone can be a master detective."

"Do you _have_ to be so diplomatic about everything?"

He kisses her instead of answering.


	17. drabble 17

**Pairing: **Jaime/Cassie**  
Rating:** PG  
**Word Count:** ~800**  
Prompt: **Cassie sleeps over at Jaime's and meets his family

... ...

"…I don't know why you're friends with my brother anyway, it's not like he's very interesting. He's kind of ugly, too, and—"

"Mila," he groans, "Can you be quiet?"

She sticks her tongue out and him and he rolls her eyes.

"Jaime," Cassie laughs, looking at him from where she's kneeling by the coffee table, "You never told me that your little sister was so adorable."

"Because he sucks," Milagro says at the same time Jaime says, "She's really _not_ that great."

Cassie laughs again and draws an X with the blue crayon Mila gave her for their marathon of tic-tac-toe on her drawing pad. And, okay, as big of a pain his sister is, it's kind of nice (really cool) that she loves Cassie so much, and that Cassie seems to love her just as much. And that feeling he gets as he's watching them kneeling together at the coffee table with crayons scattered around and a drawing pad between them, Cassie laughing at the crazy stories Mila's telling about her classmates? It's a pretty awesome feeling.

"I win again!" Mila declares, diagonally connecting her pink O's. Cassie winks at him and he fights off a chuckle because, no, Mila hasn't quite caught on to the fact that Cassie's been letting her win this whole time.

"Want to play Hangman next?" Cassie suggests.

"I get to pick the first word!"

"Okay," Cassie laughs.

Jaime grins, and then lifts his head as he hears the front door being opened—his parents coming back home from the grocery store. His mom has gone to the store every day since he first asked if Cassie could spend the night tonight, because she's the kind of mom that believes that there's never enough food around the house when people are over.

He eats a lot, though, so he's not complaining.

Cassie meets his eyes and bites her lower lip a little nervously, and he smiles at her in reassurance. She's worried that his parents won't like her, which is kind of the most ridiculous thing ever since he thinks it's physically impossible to not like Cassie.

"Mila?" his mom calls out.

His little sister beams and jumps onto her feet. For a second, he thinks she's going to go sprinting to their parents like she always does (_suck up!_), but then she grabs Cassie's hand and tugs her, saying, "Come on, come on, come on!" And, okay, it's hard for him not to love his little sister after that.

He stands up and holds his hand out, and Cassie grins and slips her free hand into his, letting the both of them (well, mostly him) pull her to her feet.

Then he hears, "Mila, Jaime, could you help us with the…" and then their mother's voice trails off as their parents walk into the living room, their eyes immediately going to Cassie.

"Mama," Mila says, running forward and pulling Cassie and Jaime along with her, "Look who's here!"

His parents look to him and he smiles, squeezing their hands together reassuringly. Mila has already let go, picked up by their father, who looks at Cassie and then at Jaime. "Mom, Dad," Jaime introduces, bringing Cassie a few steps closer, "This is Cassie."

"Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Reyes," Cassie greets, waving a little.

His mother _beams_.

"Oh, Jaime," she says, placing a hand on Cassie's cheek, "She's so precious!" Cassie flushes a little, biting her lower lip to keep from smiling any wider. "I know you told us that she was amazing but you could've warned me that she was adorable, too," his mother continues, pulling her hand from Cassie face to brush back her own bangs.

"She's a beauty," his dad says and Mila giggles behind her hands.

He smiles, squeezing their hands together again. "I know," he replies and then smiles as Cassie blushes a little more.

"You can call me Tia Bianca, _mija, _and call my husband Tio Alberto. Now,how good are you in the kitchen_?_"

"Mom," Jaime says.

"I'd love to help you cook dinner, Tia Bianca!"

His mother gives him a pointed look (he resists rolling his eyes; he _helps_ his mother in the kitchen, sometimes) before taking Cassie's other hand, pulling her away from him. Cassie smiles at him over her shoulder as his mother tugs her towards the kitchen, and his dad asks Mila something that makes her laugh as he takes her upstairs.

Jaime shakes his head, amused, and walks back into the living room to begin cleaning up, pushing the crayons from the drawing pad. But as he's about to close it, he notices a drawing on the corner of a page of tic-tac-toe games—a crayon drawing of Blue Beetle and Wonder Girl with a red heart around them and, in Cassie's handwriting: _Blue Wonder? Wonder Beetle? Beetle Girl?_ Except, "Blue Wonder" and "Beetle Girl" are crossed out, and "Wonder Beetle" is circled a few times with a few more hearts.

He grins and tears that page out, folds it and slides it into his pocket so he can put it up in his room later.


	18. drabble 18

**Pairing: **Bart/Cissie**  
Rating:** PG  
**Word Count:** ~800**  
Prompt: **Cissie tries to teach Bart how to slow down and be patient. She does so by teaching him how to shoot a target.

... ...

He groans in frustration as the arrow hits the outer edge of the thin ring. It's the closest of all his other attempts, but it's still not in the center. Behind him, a voice says, "Better," and he snaps his head around to see Cissie standing there with her arms crossed, eyes looking passed him to the target.

"Maybe," he mutters.

She meets his eyes, her expression softening a little. She's usually so focused and calculating when it comes to stuff like this—their _work_—and he'd be lying if he said that he didn't find that attractive. She takes what they do seriously and like, he can tell she's sort of the underdog here. She's the smallest and the youngest and the newest, newer than him.

She came in prepared to prove herself and she definitely has, at least in his eyes.

And maybe he can relate to the look people give her, like she's too young to be doing this or out of place because she acts childish. He understands. Sometimes you need a little innocence to get through things, even if it's fake.

"You're moving," she says, snapping him from his thoughts, and he glances down at himself before giving her a confused frown.

"No, I'm not."

She smiles. "I meant when you shoot," she explains and walks closer to him, holding up his arm so that he's in position again. "Your hand shakes right as you shoot, so the arrow gets thrown off because it hits against the bow as it's released."

Oh. Well, yes, he thinks that makes sense.

"I thought I was staying still," he admits, frowning a little more.

She giggles and his frown flashes into a grin. He loves her laugh. It's so _girly_, and like, he could never forget that she's a girl. She's really pretty, even if she thinks that she's too young or too much of a tomboy to be called such, and seeing her act a little girly and childish…

He doesn't really know. It's refreshing. And he may be from a different timeline, but there will always be something attractive about a girl who's tougher than a guy but still pretty like a girl. What's hotter than being saved by a girl? Not much.

(Yes, he realizes that that's kind of stupid, but whatever. He's been hanging around Wally too much.)

"It's because you're so jittery all the time," Cissie tells him, once again bringing him out of his thoughts. He has a tendency to have a mind that races, but he becomes especially scatterbrained with he's around Cissie. "You're a speedster," she says like it's an explanation. He raises his eyebrows. "You have a hard time staying still."

"Don't I," he laughs.

She giggles again and shakes her head.

"But that's why I don't see the point in this," he adds, shaking the bow in his hand. "I have my speed, you have your arrows. It's not like Bats wants you to start running like me or flying like Blue!"

"It's not about that." He meets her eyes. "Aiming is about surviving. You hurdle yourself across rooms with your speed, right?" He nods. "What if you had a narrow window or just a ledge that you needed to make? Wouldn't it increase your chances even a little if you could aim better?"

He exhales loudly. He hates that she's right.

"Go again," she says.

"Cissie—"

"I'll help you."

She comes to stand behind him, pressing against his back, and he sucks in a breath. She adjusts his arms, bending it slightly at the elbow, and he pulls another arrow from the quiver at his hip and nocks it onto the string, closes one eye and exhales slowly, letting his thoughts go with his breath. And for once, he feels himself standing perfectly still.

It's oddly relaxing.

"Go," she breathes right by his ear, and he releases the string from his fingers, watching, almost in slow motion, as the arrow soars across the room and hits the target.

"Alright," he laughs as he lowers his arms. It hit the very edge of the bull's eye circle. "That's my best one yet!"

"You missed the center."

"But I got that much closer in one shot," he points out.

"Yeah, and that's good, but…" She frowns and furrows her eyebrows together in confusion. "I don't get it. You were still and everything and your aim was pretty spot-on from what I could tell. You _should've_ hit the center. Why didn't it…"

"Well, you're…" He trails off, rubbing the heel of his hand into the back of his neck. She stares at him expectantly. "You're kind of distracting," he mumbles.

"Oh," she says quietly. He watches her eyes widen in realization, her lip curving upward into something between a smile and a smirk. No doubt that she got that from Artemis, or at least Roy. "Oh," she says again, except this time it comes out as a laugh. "Should I leave?"

"I've got a better idea," he announces, and then in the same breath, "I can go with you and we can get lunch at some buffet and see how much ice-cream it takes for me to get a brain freeze!"

"You've never had brain freeze before?"

"Can't say that I have," he admits.

She grins wickedly, eyes sparkling. "Let's do it."


	19. drabble 19

**Pairing: **Bart/Cissie**  
Rating:** PG  
**Word Count:** ~800**  
Prompt: **Cissie is sick from her first mission and Bart takes cares of her.

... ...

He hates seeing her like this.

It's not like he thinks they're indestructible or something, but it's easy for him to forget that they are—they _all_ are—so very _human_, himself included. Sure, they're _super_human (whether your medium was speed or strength or intelligence), but still _human_. They're not immune to pain and not invulnerable to injuries.

And, apparently, they're not exempt from catching the flu.

Cissie is curled up on the couch, swaddled in a beige duvet while having a _Spy Kids_ marathon on Netflix. Her cheeks are flushed while the rest of her is kind of pale and her eyelids are heavy with drowsiness and she looks miserable and sick just sitting there.

It's almost cruel how sad she looks.

"So," he says loudly, watching her flinch in surprise and whip her head around to look at him, "Are you feeling hungry?"

"Bart?"

"The one and only," he declares, flashing a grin.

She laughs. "What are you still doing here?" she asks, and it comes out a little stuffy and hoarse.

"I'm here to keep you company." He shrugs his shoulders and grins a little wider. "It's a good thing I am, too, since it looks like Wolf abandoned you."

"Red took him for a walk," she explains. "And shouldn't you be on the mission?"

"No!" He shakes his head and crosses his arms over his chest. "You and I are the new kids, remember? This would've been the first mission for the both of us if you hadn't gotten sick, and I told them that there was no way I was going to go without you! That just wouldn't be fair! Besides, it's not that big of a deal. There'll be other ones."

She blinks. "You stayed because of me?"

"It's not that big of a deal," he says again, hating the way he feels his cheeks warm a little.

"It is to me."

He blushes a little more.

"So," he says, clapping his hands together loudly. She grins, brings a hand up from underneath her blanket to brush her hair away from her face. "What's there to eat?"

"I think Megan left some chicken noodle soup on the stove," she says.

"Ah, chicken noodle soup," he laughs, "That is so retro."

She laughs and shakes her head, turning her attention back to the movie, and he walks into the kitchen. When he comes back a little more than twenty minutes later, balancing two trays of food in either hand, her eyes widen as she says, "Oh, my gosh," in a laugh. He grins and sets everything down on the table. Each tray has a large bowl of chicken noodle soup, four grilled cheese triangles stacked onto a plate, a mug of hot tea, a smaller bowl of tomato soup, slices of toasted garlic bread, and a small bag of chips from the cabinet.

He plops himself onto the couch beside her. "There's no way I can finish everything on that tray," she says, still laughing.

"Oh, was I supposed to get you food, too?"

She shoves his shoulder playfully, except it isn't nearly hard enough to leave a bruise. She really _is_ sick. "Should you be sitting this close to me?" she asks worriedly. "I don't want to get you sick, too."

He shrugs his shoulders. "I'm not afraid of a little flu. Besides, I think you _should_ sit next to me. I'm a speedster, remember? I'm like my own heater."

She smiles at him. "Can I?"

"Go right ahead."

He pulls one side of the blanket out from underneath her so that she can scoot herself closer, pressing into his side. It's kind of strange to think that she feels cold right now even though her skin feels warm, but whatever. He doesn't mind. He pulls the blanket over his side so that they're both underneath and then leans forward to grab the soup.

"Eat up," he says as he hands her a bowl.

She grins at him, clinks their bowls together as if they're toasting before turning back to the screen.

And that's how they stay for most of the night, until they're half an hour into the third movie and he has to get up to put their dishes away. (They finished _everything_. He finished her leftovers, but it's still impressive, the amount she finished on her own.) He comes back bearing fruit popsicles to help her sore throat and keep her hydrated—the key to fighting off the flu—and tucks himself back into place beside her, discarding their sticks and empty wrappers onto the table (he'll throw them later) when they've finished.

And when they reach the credits of the third movie and he's starting up the fourth, she shifts beside him, tucking her legs underneath her and leaning her head ever so slightly against his. "Thanks for tonight," she tells him.

He smiles and slips his arm around her instead of answering.


	20. drabble 20

**Pairing: **Tim/Stephanie**  
Rating:** PG  
**Word Count:** ~700**  
Prompt: **After Steph hurts her foot, Tim gets her home and gives her some TLC.

... ...

There was one slow, painful second where he watched her tumbling off of the roof, frozen in his spot, too stunned and too horrified to even breathe, let alone react.

He'd picked her voice out easily despite all of the noise around and honestly, the strangled cry of pain she made followed by the uneven way she hit the graveled rooftop, too hurt to catch herself, is one of the most terrifying things he's ever heard. He's never heard her in pain before.

He never wants to hear it again.

He threw himself off of the roof in the next second, shooting his grappling hook and swinging between the skyscrapers to catch her. He held onto her tightly and rode the momentum of his swing up and onto another rooftop, got himself on even footing and cradled her securely in his arms, her hands gripping onto his cape tightly.

"S…" Her name died on his tongue, though it has less to do with remembering secret identities and more to do with the fact that her face was twisted in pain. He barely even heard the orders that Dick gave through the mental link, he was so focused on Stephanie.

"I'm fine," she breathed.

He just shook his head as Bart and Gar dropped onto the rooftop beside them, ready to take them back to the Cave.

As he's looking at her now, it's hard to believe that she'd been in any pain at all. She keeps insisting that a sprained ankle is hardly something to worry about, but he doesn't really care. She couldn't see the look on her face when he caught her, probably couldn't hear her own cry as she tumbled off of the roof.

He has every right to be worried about her.

"Should I find it romantic that you're just standing there and staring at me?"

He grins and steps into her room, letting the door slide closed behind him. Her ankle is propped up by pillows with her other leg folded underneath, a few more pillows wedged between her and the headboard.

"I wouldn't," he admits with a laugh. "It's a little too…"

"Stalker-like?" she guesses.

He grins.

Then her eyes fall onto the tray in his hands and she arches an eyebrow. "What did I say about taking care of me?"

"Stephanie," he sighs.

"_I'm fine_," she tells him slowly, dramatically. He rolls his eyes. "Quit worrying about me."

"Then quit giving me things to worry about," he mumbles.

"You and I both know that I was lucky to get away with just a sprained ankle," she points out, crossing her arms over her chest.

"That's what worries me."

"Tim…"

He sighs again, sets the tray on the nightstand before pulling up a chair to her beside and sitting down. "I know, I know," he says, "We risk this kind of stuff and worse things every day just by being here. But I guess since it was _you_ it just really freaked me out." He takes her hand in his, runs his thumb over her knuckles. "I don't know what I'd do if—"

"Tim," she says again, interrupting, "Stop." And he does. "You know I can't promise anything about… _you know_. None of us can. It's just how it goes."

"Yeah," he exhales. "And it sucks. Sometimes I wonder what it'd be like if we didn't become Robin and Spoiler."

"Well, I don't." He looks at her and she shrugs. "I never would've met you if you hadn't been there to save me from Manta that night. Sure, our lives are dangerous and hectic, but…" She shrugs one shoulder. "I love the Team and the thrill and knowing that I'm not sitting back and letting things happen without a fight. And I love _you_."

He smiles, says, "I love you, too," softly, squeezing their joined hands.

"You better," she says, and he laughs. She leans forward and presses a kiss to his lips. "Now, are you going to eat with me or am I going to have to finish these waffles all by myself?"

"I'll eat with you."

She makes a face. "I was hoping you'd say _no_."

He hands her a fork and says, "You might as well share. I'm going to end up making you more, anyway."

"Fine," she sighs dramatically again, "But I'm not sharing my syrup."

He laughs.


	21. drabble 21

**Pairing: **Jaime/Cassie**  
Rating:** NC-17  
**Word Count:** ~1,100**  
Prompt: **Cassie gets hit with Poison Ivy's lust pollen.  
**For:** justplainsomething

... ...

She doesn't really remember how they ended up like this, but maybe it's because her head is still a little fuzzy from their encounter with Poison Ivy. She took a pretty hard blow from one of Ivy's monstrous plants and they obviously brought her back to the Cave while she was still out, because she woke up in her room with this heat between her legs.

"Jaime," she breathes.

He presses their lips together and kisses her a little harder, pressing her back against the bookcase.

Then he slides his lips from hers and kisses the underside of her jaw, thumbs digging ever so slightly into her hips, and she tips her head back and moans softly. He murmurs something she doesn't understand and then nips at her skin, runs his tongue along the marks he made before kissing them.

He hooks his fingers underneath the waistband and asks, "Are you sure about this?"

She whimpers as his fingers, hot against her skin, start pushing her pants and panties too slowly off of her hips.

"We can stop right now," he says.

"No," she breathes, pushing a hand into his hair and bringing his lips back up to hers, kissing him before adding, "Don't stop."

He mutters something in Spanish and kisses her a little dirtier than before, pushing her pants and panties down so that they fall to her feet on the floor. He grazes his knuckles up her soaked folds and she trembles slightly, her free hand gripping the edge of one of the shelves as she kisses harder, pushing her tongue passed his lips.

Then he slides his fingertips over her center and her legs buck in response, and he steadies her with his other hand at her hip.

"Jaime," she gasps.

He draws her moisture around, sliding his fingers against her folds before circling clit, and she lets out this breathy moan. "Feels so good," he whispers into her ear as he dips two fingers into her, and she rolls her hips against his hand.

He's right. That feels _so good_.

Then she hears voices, except they sound muffled, as if they were being drowned out by the wall behind them.

She bites her lower lip to keep from making any sounds, which is hard as Jaime works his fingers in and out of her a little faster, a little harder. "She hit her head pretty hard," a voice says from outside. It sounds like Dick. Cassie has no idea why the thought makes her that much wetter, Jaime fingering her while their friends are just in the other room.

"Maybe," a voice that sounds like Barbara's replies. "But shouldn't she be waking up soon?"

Jaime stalls his hand and she whimpers his name.

"It's hard to say," Dick sighs.

Jaime drags his fingers up her center and then begins circling her clit slowly as he sucks down on her pulse. She tries to bring her hand up to cover her mouth, but he grasps her wrist and holds it in place, swipes his fingers over her bundle and makes her yelp before beginning to slowly circle her clit once more. Her legs tremble.

"Maybe," Dick continues, "it's because she was hit by a pretty heavy dosage of Ivy's spores. I mean, _you_ were, too, but it wasn't too much. I mean, you were still able to—"

"_Shut up_," Barbara snaps. Dick laughs faintly.

Jaime swipes her clit once, twice more. Cassie squeezes her eyes shut and mewls. Oh _Hera_, she hopes that Dick and Barbara can't hear them right now. But did they just say… that she was hit by Ivy's spores? She can't even remember that.

"Should we try to wake her?" a third voice asks. It sounds familiar, but right now, Jaime is alternating between circling her clit and working his fingers in and out of her and it's hard for her to concentrate on anything other than trying to be quiet right now, which he is making impossible for her.

Isn't he worried that they're going to get caught?

Then he thrusts his fingers deeper and presses his palm against her, and she gasps loudly as he slides his fingers against her folds and circles her clit again. And she'd be more worried about how they're definitely going to get caught if she weren't _so close_. Jaime swipes his over her clit again and then presses down, circling, and she moans his name.

"I think… I think she's starting to wake up," the third voice says, and she tips her head back as he pushes his fingers back into her, thumb swiping over her clit.

"Cassie?"

She sucks in a gasp, eyes flying open before squinting against the sting of the bright lights overhead. A hand squeezes hers softly and she sits herself up, a little too quickly, though, because a wave of vertigo hits her and she groans. When her vision finally focuses, she finds herself looking around her room.

"Cassie?" someone asks.

Jaime is sitting at a chair pulled up to her bed. Dick and Barbara stand behind him, Dick's arms crossed over his chest and Barbara's hand at the crook of his elbow.

She blinks rapidly a few times, feeling her breathing gradually begin to return to a normal rate. Her head is spinning and, underneath the sheets, she feels her sex throbbing in need, wanting relief. She can tell how drenched she is.

What's going on?

"How are you feeling?" Dick asks, eyebrows furrowing in concern.

"Yeah," she says, trying not to wince at how heavy and breathless she sounds. "I guess I'm just… tired."

"Sorry if we woke you," Barbara apologizes, reaching around Jaime to touch her forearm. "We were just worried. You hadn't woken up since Ivy knocked you out with her spores." Cassie swallows, hard, and nods. "We'll let you rest now," she tells her, but judging by the way she looks at Jaime, the comment is obviously for him.

"Right," Jaime says, standing up. He squeezes their joined hands again. "Get some rest, okay? Should we turn off the lights?"

She nods, lets him bring her hand up to his lips and kiss her knuckles, before leaning down and kissing her forehead. She tries, subtly, to press her legs together. Then he lets go of her hand and follows Dick and Barbara out of the room, flicking the lights off before the door slides closed.

Cassie presses her back against the mattress again, pushing her shorts and panties down off and then kicking them off beneath her covers. Her body practically burns with need, something she knows was definitely worsened by the hallucination, and she closes her eyes, spreading her legs and moaning softly as her fingers slide over her throbbing sex.


	22. drabble 22

**Pairing: **Dick/Zatanna**  
Rating:** PG-13  
**Word Count:** ~800**  
Prompt: **bubble bath  
**For:** roxy61995

... ...

She leaves late because there were problems with the lighting system during dress rehearsal. She didn't _need_ to stay the extra half hour for the guy to come and fix it himself after his workers couldn't get it right, but she wanted to make sure everything would be operating smoothly for tomorrow night's show. Her audience deserves the best, after all.

It's almost midnight when she gets back and their place is totally dark, so she figures Dick went to bed already.

Except, when she walks into their bedroom and flicks on the light, she finds their bed is still as fixed as they left it this morning. And the bathroom light is on.

"Is that you, 'Tanna?"

"No, it's a robber," she teases.

"You sound like a really sexy robber, then." She laughs and walks inside and finds Dick sitting in the tub, surrounded by bubbles. She shakes her head, amused. Somehow she's not surprised. "Well, I stand corrected. You're a really _beautiful_ robber."

"Stop it," she says.

"Why are you embarrassed?" he asks. "You're perfect."

She laughs and looks away, feeling herself blush.

Honestly, you'd figure she'd be used to it by now, how casually he praises her. He says it so easily that it's hard for her not to believe, even a little bit, that maybe she _is_ almost as perfect as he claims. She knows she's not, but he tells her that she is every day and acts like _he's_ the one that's lucky to be with _her_ and not the other way around, and it's just…

It's just not something she takes lightly, especially since it's him. She'll never understand what she must've done right to have Dick love her the way he does.

He holds out his hand and says, "Come here," in this low, gruff voice, and she does. She walks over to him and slips her hand in his, and he presses a kiss to her knuckles. "Why don't you join me?"

"Dick," she breathes, pulling her hand away. "I shouldn't."

He frowns and asks, "Why?" and honestly, it's _unfair_. She'd do practically anything for him if he gives her that look.

"If I get in there with you, neither of us is going to leave this bathroom anytime soon."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," he laughs.

"You have work."

"No, I have tomorrow off. And your shows aren't until the afternoon, so we don't have anywhere to be in the morning." He smiles at her like he knows he's won and tugs at the zipper of her skirt. It gets her a little wet, but she hardly cares. "Are you going to make me beg?"

"Well, _actually_…" He chuckles, slides his hand over her hip. "I'd love to join you."

He flashes a smile and reaches up, grasping her chin with his fingers, and she leans down as he's bringing her face to his and pressing a kiss to her lips that makes her whimper a little, bracing a hand against his wet chest to keep from falling over. "Dick," she breathes in a laugh. "Let me get my clothes off, first."

He groans against her lips, kisses her again before pulling his hand back, and she looks away as she's undressing. It's not like this is the first time he's seen her strip before, but if history really is destined to repeat itself then she knows that the second their eyes meet, they'll end up having sex against this wall before she gets any closer to the tub.

Not that she'd ever be opposed to that, but she actually _does_ want to just laze around in the tub with him right now.

When she's totally undressed, she walks over to the side of the tub, leans over and kisses him again because she just really, really wants to.

Except, his arm winds around her waist seconds after she presses her lips to his, and she sort of squeals when he maneuvers her into the tub in one swift movement, sloshing some of the suds and water onto the tile in the process. She leans back against his chest and laughs.

"A little eager?" she teases.

"You can't blame me," he chuckles into her ear. "You're so _beautiful_, and I'm only human."

"I think it's the other way around."

"It's not," he tells her. "Now stop, before you make me upset."

She laughs softly, gathers some of the bubbles into her palm and swipes them onto his face. He grins and tries to kiss her cheek, and she laughs a little louder as she twists her head away. He kisses her neck instead, and she leans her head back against his shoulder and lets out a sigh.

"What?" he asks.

"I was just wondering what day it was," she says.

He smiles against her throat, kissing it again. Under the water, she feels him push his thumb over her fingers. She took it off because she didn't want to get it wet, but she figures it's just habit.

"Less than a month," she reminds.

"Too far away," he murmurs, and she smiles and closes her eyes, knowing _exactly_ what he means. He grasps her chin again, turns her head to meet his eyes and says, "I can't wait to make you my wife," right before kissing her again.


	23. drabble 23

**Pairing: **Dick/Zatanna**  
Rating:** PG-13  
**Word Count:** ~1,100**  
Prompt: **beach wedding**  
For:** opaul

... ...

It only makes sense that they get married on a beach since he proposed to her on one.

Of course, no one even _knew_ about that proposal, or that they were still together at the time, but whatever. It makes sense to _them_, and after the past few years, she doesn't know any other way to celebrate the fact that they _survived_ through hell and back than to retreat to one of Bruce's private islands off the coast of who knows where and just _relax_.

And the funny thing is that neither of them really thought about getting married when they got onto the island. They didn't even have a date in mind or _any_ wedding details sorted for the near future. They didn't even _tell_ anyone they were engaged, yet.

You can't exactly blame them, though. They just narrowly avoided an apocalypse, and any ideas they had related to their wedding probably got lost in the dark blur that's been the last few years of their lives, which she's sure every single one of them wishes they could forget ever happened.

They've been distracted.

But the second night on the island, she was sitting with Dick at the long table with everyone around them when he suddenly took her hand and said, "Let's get married _here_."

"What?" she'd blurted out, not noticing (blatantly ignoring) the way everyone was staring at them like they were _aliens_ or something.

"Let's get married here," he repeated, "On the beach."

He smiled at her like it was the most perfect thing he could ever think of, and she smiled, too, because it _was_. It was absolutely perfect. "Okay," she said, nodding a little, and he laughed for no real reason and kissed her, hard.

And like, after they got yelled at by practically everyone for keeping their engagement and relationship and everything else a secret, they all pretty much agreed that a wedding would be perfect for their vacation. Megan took it upon herself to organize everything and recruited Artemis and Raquel to help, and then suddenly everyone was involved in one way or another in putting together a ceremony and a reception and everything in between (since Megan looked like she was going to _cry_ at the idea of them just saying vows in a chapel).

So, she stepped off of the plane just expecting a vacation and when they leave, they'll be stepping onto another plane, married and being flown away to their honeymoon.

Somehow it just _fits_.

... ...

"This wouldn't have happened if we eloped," he mumbles, hiking the strap of his bag over his shoulder as they're walking down the steps of the house. She smiles, thoroughly amused as she notices that all of the guys share expressions similar to his.

"Getting married here was _your_ idea," she reminds with a laugh. "And you were perfectly fine with letting Megan be in charge of everything."

"I still am," he says. "I'm just not a fan of being kicked out of the main house."

"It's tradition."

But even though she says it, she's not huge big fan of this, either. Well, it's not like they're really going anywhere. All of the guys will just be right next door in the smaller house (by like, a _foot_ or something; honestly, there's no difference). And it's just totally adorable how all of these wedding traditions make Megan totally giddy. It's really cute.

She just never likes being away from Dick, _ever_.

"It's just one night," she says, for the both of them. At least she'll have the girls and he'll have the guys to entertain them while they're not with each other.

"One night," he echoes.

"But if I hear anything about there being strippers…"

He laughs.

"There's not a being in a existence that could ever have anything on you," he tells her, and, okay, maybe the kiss she gives him is a little (a lot) dirtier than she thinks is appropriate with everyone around them, but she hardly cares. He deserves so much more after what he just said.

... ...

They get married right at sunset, underneath a canopy of tropical flowers that are enchanted to cover the stretch of the shoreline where the ceremony and reception is held. No one's wearing shoes (they're in _sand_) and the guys aren't wearing blazers, the sleeves of their shirts rolled up passed their elbows.

It's practically the furthest thing from the ornate, traditional church ceremony that her Catholic upbringing made her believe she'd have.

She loves it.

She's wearing a lacy, white dress with a skirt of petals that matches the petals tucked into the curls of her hair, gripping onto Bruce's arm to keep her from running down the aisle the second she sees Dick, and Diana barely gets out, "You may now…" before he's lifting her by her waist and she's slanting her lips over his, pushing her fingers into his hair.

Artemis pulls her into a hug the second Dick sets her back down, and only then does she realize how loudly everyone is cheering.

And during the reception, after they eat dinner and then cut the cake and toss the garter (which Dick shoots right into Bruce's face) and the bouquet (which Dinah catches, interestingly enough), and after she dances with basically everyone, she stands beside the water, underneath the dozens of paper lanterns that float with the petals.

Dick comes to stand behind her, tugging at the strings of her corset, and they both laugh at the whistles and catcalls they receive from everyone else.

"Couldn't you two at least wait until you got behind a door?" Wally calls out.

She flashes a smile, steps out of her dress to reveal her baby blue bikini, and Dick drops a towel onto the sand to put her dress on top of. And as she works off his tie and each of his buttons, everyone is suddenly around them, running into the water in their bathing suits as soon as they've gotten their clothes off.

"Best vacation ever?" he asks.

She smiles widely and nods, then leans up a little and kisses him. "I love you," she says against his lips.

"_God_, me too," he groans. He presses her as close as physically possible and says, "I love you so much," before kissing her again. And honestly, they probably could've stayed like that forever if about a dozen different hands hadn't tugged them into the water only seconds later.

She gasps for air as soon as she's resurfaced, Artemis laughing into her ear as she helps her up, and she turns her head just in time to see Dick shove Wally, doubled over in laughter, so that he falls face-first into the water. Then he meets her eyes and gives her a wink right before reaching over and grasping Tim in his arms, maneuvering him into a headlock.

She laughs, shaking her head.

Definitely the best vacation _ever_.


	24. drabble 24

**Pairing: **Jaime/Cassie**  
Rating:** PG-13  
**Word Count:** ~800**  
Photo Inspiration: **media. tumblr. /38a1c3764434ebf4f3d136072244 11c0/ tumblr_ inline_ mgytunhCLq1qhxhiz. jpg

... ...

Hayley is the cutest baby to have ever existed. He's pretty sure every parent says that about their children, but _gosh_, Hayley looks so much like her mom. Of course she's going to be adorable. Maybe she has his eye color and his curls, but her blonde hair and fair skin and dimples and super long lashes? That's all her mom's.

He's going to be in so much trouble when she grows up and starts liking boys. He can barely stand to think about how guys will look at her when she's a teen, since it's a given that she'll be just as beautiful as her mom. He's seriously worried about it.

And she's barely even _one_.

Cassie finds it totally amusing whenever he brings it up, but she doesn't try to stop him like Bart or Tim do by saying it's way too early to think of that stuff. He loves her even more for it. She knows he just needs to talk things through when he's anxious, chime in with a soothing comment here or there, and he'll eventually rationalize and calm down. He's counting on her, because she'll be the only one that can keep him from doing something stupid like embarrassing Hayley in front of a boy she likes and making his little girl hate him for it.

He honestly doesn't know how he'd live without Cassie.

He loves her so much. He knows that and she knows that. He _loves her._ And he'll never, ever be able to look at her without feeling the way he did when he first realized he was in love with her. He has these moments where he's sort of just watching her or thinking about her and it just _dawns_ on him all over again.

Like right now, as he's walking into the kitchen and Hayley's in her high chair and Cassie's facing her and the two of them are giggling. He kind of had a bad day yesterday and went to sleep with a headache, and Cassie let him sleep in and already has breakfast for him on the table.

Seriously, she's an _angel_.

Cassie sort of has her back to him, but Hayley's facing the doorway and sees him as soon as he walks in, and her face _lights up_ and she points at him and sputters baby nonsense in her little voice.

Cassie looks over her shoulder at him. Honestly, her face isn't any less excited to see him than Hayley's.

He loves them both _so much_.

"Did you sleep well?" she asks after he walks over and kisses her on the lips.

"Yeah," he says, pulling up his chair so that he's sitting right behind her. He kisses her again on her cheek, just because he wants to, and Hayley giggles. "I'm sorry for oversleeping."

"Don't be," Cassie laughs, like he's silly for wanting an extra hour of sleep. He's always worried about sleeping in, because he feels like he makes Cassie get up earlier to change and feed Hayley when he could be doing it instead. But she also just got off of maternity leave and is a lot more bummed out about spending less time with Hayley than she lets on.

Of course it only makes him love her more, how she always wants to be with Hayley.

Cassie takes another cracker out of the box, spreads from Nutella on it and pops it into her mouth, and Hayley bursts into a fit of giggles.

He smiles, amused. "What's that about?"

"I have no idea," Cassie laughs. "She's been like this all morning. Look." She spreads Nutella onto another cracker and holds it to his lips, and sure enough, Hayley's giggling like crazy again when he takes a bite. Cassie finishes the other half and Hayley just about dies.

_Gosh_, she's _cute_.

"I think it's the Nutella," Cassie says, grabbing the jar and placing it on the high chair's tray. He arches an eyebrow at her and she shrugs. Whatever, they're extremely careful about Hayley's diet all the time. A little morning splurge on Nutella just this once isn't going to do too much damage, especially since it's cracking her up as much as it is.

They watch as Hayley leans over and peers inside, then sticks her hand in and brings it back out, her fingertips unevenly coated in the stuff. She giggles a little and then sticks her hand in her mouth and bursts into more laughter.

"Silly girl," Cassie coos as Hayley goes in for another handful, and Jaime leans over and kisses her shoulder, mumbling, "I love you," into her skin.

She blinks, and instead of being offended like he thinks someone else might be, he just grins. He _loves_ catching her off guard like this, mostly because she blushes when he does and he loves that after being together for so long, he can still make her blush like when they first started dating.

"I love you, too," she says, and kisses him a lot longer than she probably should've considering that their daughter is in the room. Hayley's like, _eight _months old. He doubts she'll ever remember her mommy and daddy making out in front of her.

Besides, she's got her Nutella. She'll be perfectly fine if he, say, pulls Cassie onto his lap so he can kiss her a little harder.


	25. drabble 25

**Pairing: **Jaime/Cassie**  
Rating:** PG-13  
**Word Count:** ~700  
**Prompt:** Either Jaime or Cassie end up in the hospital

... ...

He wasn't supposed to have been gone this long. They promised him that negotiations with Japan wouldn't take more than two or three days, tops, and really, they're only here on behalf of the League to provide protection for all parties involved, since none of these countries really trust each other to not like, hire an assassination on one another.

So they're basically here to babysit a bunch of old guys discussing commercial relations around a table. After the whole thing with the Reach a few years ago, he'd gladly take this as their biggest threat over an entire alien invasion any day, thank you very much.

But he didn't want to just leave Cassie while she isn't one hundred percent, either. Even _she_ seemed reluctant for him to go, even though she's done nothing for the last few months but swear that she's perfectly fine. Honestly, as much as she loves helping everyone else, it's a little ironic that she's always so reluctant to let anyone help her.

Then he has to step into the hallway and be told by Dick that there was a call from Barbara, and Cassie's been rushed to the hospital.

And his whole world _stops_.

He has to sort of lean against the wall for support, which is a little awkward and uncomfortable in the armor, but whatever. He's trying to remember how to _breathe_, because his throat feels tight and his chest feels even tighter and, _god_, he _knew_ this was going to happen. He never should've left Cassie. Sure, she's with Barbara and Bart and Diana and everyone else and of course he trusts them to take care of her, or else he never would've agreed to take this mission.

But nothing will ever, _ever_ be a substitute for actually being there for her.

Dick grasps Jaime's arm above his elbow and pulls him so he's standing up straight again and says, "Go to her."

Jaime doesn't even bother questioning if it's really alright that he leaves. He doesn't care. He just asks where the nearest zeta tube is and then takes off in that direction as soon as he's given the coordinates.

The fifteen minutes it takes him to fly from the meeting to the nearest zeta tube and then zeta as close as he could to the hospital and run the rest of the way in his civvies are the longest fifteen minutes of his life. He's never hated the whole secret identity thing as much as he does in the last seven minutes it took him to run to the hospital (because it's not exactly inconspicuous if Blue Beetle flies over there, and like, maybe he could've managed something if he stopped to think about it, but he was in too big of a _rush_ to think of anything other than the fact that he _needs_ to get to Cassie).

He gives Cassie's name to the lady behind the desk as soon as he's at the hospital, but then Tim and Stephanie appear out of _nowhere_ and he's a tiny bit more relieved to see them. A few nurses protest as Tim drags him down a hallway, and Stephanie tells them that he's the husband and needs to be with his wife.

He's pretty sure he's going to be sick.

It only really lasts for the next twenty minutes, though, which go by in this sort of blur, and he's just starting to get the feeling back in his hand when the door opens and Tim and Stephanie and Bart and Cissie all sort of invite themselves in. He's not really sure if they're even allowed in the room yet, but whatever. Stephanie will probably just talk them out of being in trouble if the nurses come back and try to get them to leave. Very few people ever stand a chance against her charm, and Tim? He's not one of them. It's hilarious.

(But Jaime's the same way with Cassie, and Bart with Cissie, so it's not like they're really ones to talk.)

"Congratulations," Bart tells him, clapping a hand against his shoulder. Cissie leans up to give him a peck on the cheek, echoing her fiancé.

"She's beautiful," Tim says. He and Stephanie are standing on the other side of Cassie's bed, and Tim leans a little around Stephanie (who's begun to braid Cassie's hair out of her face) to get a better look at the little girl bundled up in her mother's arms.

"Yeah, she is," Jaime breathes, and Cassie meets his eyes and smiles, moves her hand carefully so that she can hold onto his, and he threads their fingers together and squeezes.


	26. drabble 26

**Pairing: **Dick/Zatanna**  
Rating:** PG-13  
**Word Count:** ~800  
**Photo Inspiration:** media. tumblr /d465e9f26f66fa7050e37b4afce5 a6d2/ tumblr_ inline_ mharzoei5H1qz4rgp. jpg

... ...

Maria's been on this baking kick ever since Zatanna was sick last month. Dick dropped Maria off at Bruce and Selina's before he went to work, so Zatanna could have the day off and not get Maria sick trying to take care of her, and when they got back, Zatanna was sitting on their couch with the TV turned on to TLC. She's been kind of addicted to Cake Boss lately, because it's hilarious how they're always yelling at each other (it reminds her so, so much of their friends), and there was a marathon, so of course she's going to watch it.

And after Maria basically _jumped_ on her and hugged her and said that she was so glad she felt better because it made her sad that her mother was sick (seriously, she's a _sweetheart_), they watched a few episodes together while Dick started on dinner, and she practically fell in love.

So she's always asking to bake now.

It's never anything too extravagant, because she's a smart girl and knows that the people on Cake Boss bake for a living, so of course their stuff is going to be a lot nicer (she said so herself). But Alfred gave her this book that has a lot of cute and easy treats for kids, and so they've all been taking turns making those with her.

And by taking turns, she means that everyone basically fights over who gets to bake with her next.

Seriously, Maria is the most adorable person, _ever_, and even though they're her parents and get to be with her the most, they're always, _always_ a little bit sad when they have to drop her off. It's not that they don't trust their friends and family to watch her, but obviously they'd rather be with her all the time if they could help it. And as cute as it is to hear Maria tell them all about her day with Grandpa Bruce or Uncle Damian or Auntie Artemis, it'll never be a substitute to actually being there with her.

Maybe that makes them seem like selfish parents, but whatever. It's hard not to be when their daughter is one of the only things in this world that's really _perfect_.

Anyway, Maria's been baking a lot lately, so when she gets home from her brunch with Artemis and smells cake batter the second she's through the front door, she isn't all that surprised.

"Baby?" she asks, because Maria and Dick both respond to it.

"In here, Mommy!" Maria exclaims.

Dick chuckles. "You need to tell her that we're in the kitchen, silly girl," he tells her, and Maria giggles. And Zatanna laughs, too, but it's for a different reason.

There are cupcakes _everywhere_.

Like, they're covering almost every single surface of the kitchen except for the sink, which is filled with a bunch of mixing bowls and measuring cups and wooden spoons they used to stir the batter together. There must be at least a hundred of them, and she's sure no more than two or three of them actually look alike, since they're in cupcake sleeves of every color and pattern and frosted in every single frosting color and sprinkled in every single shape of sprinkles that they must sell at the grocery store.

"Welcome home, Mommy!" Maria exclaims, jumping off of her chair and running to Zatanna and throwing her arms around her mother's waist, squeezing tightly. Maria's hair is up in a ponytail and her apron (a gift from Alfred) has smudges of frosting and batter all over.

"You're getting her dirty, baby," Dick says.

"I don't mind," she says, lifting Maria into her arms and kissing her cheek sloppily, which always makes her laugh like crazy. "Did you have fun with Daddy this morning?"

Maria bobs her head in a nod. "Yes! We baked!" she announces proudly.

"I can see that," Zatanna laughs. Dick chuckles, slides his hand over the small of her back and presses a kiss to her lips, and Maria giggles and hides her face behind her hands like she always does whenever her Mommy and Daddy are being "all mushy" (as she always says it). "We're going to be eating cupcakes for days."

"I know," he says, obviously amused. "She wants to give them out. I thought maybe we could have like, an impromptu dinner or something? Just to have everybody over, and they can go home with cupcakes."

Zatanna says, "Sounds perfect," because it's been a while since she's been the one to throw a dinner party, and she really likes doing it. She used to all the time, team up with Megan and plan a party for every little thing just so they'd have an excuse to get everyone together. She can definitely have a dinner for like, forty people planned and ready by 8:00.

"Daddy," Maria says, reaching over and tugging at Dick's sleeve.

"What?" Zatanna asks.

Dick grins a little wider. "Maria wants to tell everyone," he explains, and Zatanna laughs because, honestly, she's totally her father's daughter. She should've known there was a clever, ulterior motive to making all of these cupcakes. "Tell her how you wanted to say it."

And they're both smiling really widely when Maria giggles, spreads her arms out and exclaims, "My Mommy has a baby in her tummy!"


	27. drabble 27

**Pairing: **Wally/Artemis**  
Rating:** NC-17ish  
**Word Count:** ~900  
**Photo Inspiration:** media. tumblr. /30fbc7cdcf50451102f00d69bc13 1a3d/ tumblr_ inline_ mhawi0D2wZ1qz4rgp. jpg

... ...

They have this thing where she teases him about liking Harry Potter and he pretends to be more offended by it than he actually is.

And it's not that she has anything against the series, either. She's read a few of the books and watched the movies. They're good and she _does _like them. She may not be as big of a fanatic as everyone else is, but it's not hard for her to understand why people are so in love with it, either.

It's just funny that _he's_ into them, considering he spent one of their first missions together denying the existence of magic at all. He doesn't anymore, obviously, not since he became Dr. Fate himself for a few minutes and since Zatanna joined the Team. He's had enough exposure to magic that it's basically impossible for him to deny that it exists. She doesn't even really know how he got into the series, either. She just came over to his house one night and saw that all seven books were stacked on his desk.

"This guy in track really wanted me to read them," he'd explained when she'd asked about it. "They're pretty good."

And like, it was _impossible_ for her to not tease him after that.

It's not as if she's harsh with her teasing, either, not like she used to be when they were just friends or when they first started dating. She doesn't belittle him or anything. She just does things like draw lightning bolts on his skin when they're supposed to be doing homework and send pictures of Harry Potter merchandise she comes across while she's out and about, and one time she went on Google and memorized a few sexual Harry Potter pick-up lines and whispered them into his ear when they were making out in his room.

He went down on her twice with his parents in the living room beneath them and called her the best girlfriend in the history of forever. It was the same way when she found out that nerdy, scientific pick-up lines make him just as horny, too.

So now everything that's related to Harry Potter reminds her of Wally. And she knows enough about the series to recognize that the shirt's related to it when she's at the flea market and browsing through a few hangers of novelty tees this one lady as out. It's cool, too, because it's the kind of thing fans of the series would appreciate without being way too obvious, and it's not one of those tees that have faces on it (which she absolutely hates and will never, ever wear, _ever_).

She pulls it on over the halter top she's wearing because it was really warm out today, and it's a little big on her but not ridiculously so. It's just a little long – the hem of the shirt comes down to the tops of her thighs – but that's it.

She pays for it, folds it up and puts it in her purse and forgets to take a picture to send to Wally because her sister's tugging her along and asking what she wants for lunch.

She only remembers about it later, when she's back home and Wally texts her that he's on his way.

They have the apartment to themselves for the night, because her mom's out having dinner with her co-workers and Jade's going to be with Roy, and Artemis feels like a freaking _genius_ when she decides not to give Wally a heads up about her newest purchase.

Like, it's pretty obvious that they're going to end up having sex tonight, anyway, so she doesn't _need_ to do it. But she strips down to her bra and panties, anyway, pulls the shirt on and lies on her stomach on her bed so he doesn't see it right away. Jade lets Wally in just as she's leaving, and seriously, the timing is so perfect that it was like it was _meant_ to be.

"Hey, beautiful," he greets as he's walking into her room.

She looks over her shoulder and smiles at him, because he makes this little sound when he sees that she's barely wearing any clothes right now, and it's kind of stupid how excited she is to see his reaction when he realizes that _that's_ not even the best part.

"Hi," she says.

"Jeez, you just _had_ to…" He trails off, though, his eyes widening a little as she closes the book she was pretending to read, sets it on the nightstand and turns over so that she's facing him. His sort of just stares at her for a few seconds, and she bites her lower lip because she totally knows that look in his eyes. "Artemis," he says.

"Yeah?" she asks innocently, but then she _blinks_ and he has a knee on the mattress between her legs, kissing her.

"_Fuck_, Artemis," he says against her lips.

"_Wally_," she breathes, and in another blink, he's sitting against the headboard and she's straddling his legs. She can feel him hardening underneath her as his fingers play with the waistband of her panties and _fuck_ if that doesn't make her even wetter.

"_God_, Artemis," he groans when she rolls her hips a little, "You're seriously the best, _ever_."

"I know, babe," she says, kissing him a little harder and a lot dirtier than he'd kissed her just a few seconds ago, "You are, too."

She begins to tug her shirt up so she can pull it off over her head, but then he's tugging the hem back down, whispering, "Leave it on," and making her whimper and grab the headboard for support when he dips his hand into her panties and slides his fingers over her clit.


	28. drabble 28

**Pairing: **Conner/Cassie**  
Rating:** PG-13  
**Word Count:** ~900  
**Photo Inspiration:** media. tumblr. /ea30ded75ebdbdd73ddec8dd0073 7e6a/ tumblr_ inline_ mhb2672l7U1qz4rgp. jpg

... ...

Cadence's favorite place in the world right now is her Nana and Papa's farm.

She's always, _always_ asking to go there whenever they don't distract her long enough so that she forgets about it, and it's like, the sweetest thing in the world that she loves the place so much. She practically grew up there because Nana and Papa Kent absolutely insisted that the farm was a much better place to take care of a baby than the city. Cassie was on maternity leave, anyway, and he was working longer hours at the Watchtower to help cover her shifts, so he liked that his grandparents were always there to help her whenever he was gone. And he and Kara and Clark and Diana were all just a zeta tube away if there were any _real _emergencies, which, thankfully, never happened.

And they knew from the beginning that Cadence was going to be such an outdoor person, because she had the hardest time when they moved to Metropolis. Granted, she was only a year old at the time, but it's like she could just _tell_ they weren't on the farm anymore. She cried a lot more at night and was just generally a lot more restless than before.

She's used to the city now that she's older and has lived in it more. She especially loves those small, vintage shops that they take her to and the small cafés they always eat at and all of the different parks that are within walking distance from their apartment. She _does_ like living here.

But she's probably _always_ going to be a country girl.

She loves playing with and taking care of all the different animals, loves helping her Nana water the plants and her Papa pick the fruits and vegetables from the garden when they're ripe. She loves how snowy it gets during the winter and how hot it is during the summer, and that there's all these open fields she can run through, and that, at night, they all go up to the loft in the barn and have dinner there, and her Grandpa Clark hoists her up on his shoulders and points out constellations to her as she looks through her own little telescope.

Yeah, he doesn't blame her for loving it there so much. He only lived on the farm for a few years and not nearly as long as Clark and Kara ever did, but still. It's an awesome place and nothing in the city could ever compare to it.

Anyway, he's just finished moving the hay stacks with Kara when Clark and Nana Kent come out carrying lemonade. Cassie's right behind them with Cadence at her hip, and he grins at them. Cadence is wearing a fluffy, pink tutu over her little jean shorts and a straw hat over her blonde curls, playing with the buttons of her pink flannel.

Obviously pink is her favorite color right now, much to Cassie's chagrin. Whatever, it's cute.

"Grandma," Cadence exclaims, pointing to where Diana and Papa Kent are feeding the horses inside the corral. He will _always_ find it amusing whenever she calls Diana and Clark her grandma and grandpa, mostly because people can't help but stare when she does it, especially when Clark and Diana respond. It's hilarious.

"Want to go see the horses?" Cassie asks.

Cadence nods, taking off towards the corral as soon as she's on her feet.

Cassie walks up to him with a glass of lemonade, and he kisses her on the lips and slips his hand into the back pocket of her denim shorts, taking a sip from the straw. Cadence leans against the corral as Kara's horse is walking up to the gate, and it looks like the two of them are just staring at each other.

"That's so cute," Cassie says, and he grins because yeah, it totally is. "She really loves it here, huh?"

"Yeah," he answers.

"And you do, too," she points out.

He chuckles, pulls her against his chest. "Yeah," he says again, "But I love being wherever you are, more." She smiles at him, kisses his lips again, and he already knows what she's probably about to say. (Plus, he overheard her and Clark and Nana talking about it when he was helping Kara with the hay.) "You want to move back here?"

It's more of a statement than a question.

"I don't know," she says, and then adds in the same breath, "Yeah, maybe." She shrugs one shoulder. "We all obviously love it here and we're just too far from the family in Metropolis. And with the zeta tube in the barn, we can still both work in the city and…"

He kisses her again and murmurs, "I'm all for it," against her lips.

She nods a little. "I wanted to… I don't know, maybe spend the summer and see how it goes? I don't want to rush into anything."

"We won't," he promises. She nods again, and he combs his fingers through her hair, making her smile. "It'd make a lot of sense though, you know? This is where we first got together, where I proposed, where Cadence was conceived…"

She bites her lower lip. He chuckles.

"Conner," she says, not like she's upset, but like what he's saying isn't helping her _not_ rush into moving here.

He laughs this time, takes another sip of lemonade and asks if she wants to race him to the lake.


	29. drabble 29

**Pairing: **Artemis/Zatanna**  
Rating:** NC-17  
**Word Count:** ~1,400  
**TFLN: **(612): no, i'm not a lesbian.. i just really want to fuck you while drinking, thats normal in a friendship.

**Note:** I'm trying to experiment out of my comfort zones. If it's your cup of tea and you read it, just let me know what you guys think.

... ...

She honestly doesn't know how their Girl's Night Out got them here, and that's maybe because they've been club-hopping all night and they're just a little bit too tipsy to be all that rational right now, so none of them even knew name of this place before they walked in, let alone that it was a gay club. Like, _literally_ a gay club. And that's not what she has a problem with. Actually, she's pretty sure none of them have a problem with it. They just want to like, drink more and dance more and have a great time and this place seems to be doing a pretty good job at providing them with that.

It was just fucking _surprising_ when a girl walked over and started hitting on Karen.

"I am going to die of embarrassment," Karen practically whined. Barbara still has her hand on Karen's thigh, because she was the only one that reacted quick enough and pretended to be the bitchy, possessive girlfriend and planted a pretty hot kiss on Karen to get the woman to leave.

Whatever, they're all in relationships and sure of their sexual orientation and she's pretty sure there's a rule that says you need to pretend to be hot for each other to keep strange women from trying to get under your friends' skirts. Or there _should _be, at least, because it'd be the same way if they'd been with guys. Whenever they go out and Wally's not with her, Dick or Mal or Conner will pretend to be her boyfriend and pretty much scare off any creep that tries to touch her. Sometimes it involves a bit of making out.

It's just what friends do.

Anyway, Artemis is on the dance floor and not really paying attention to anything else but the music, so when she feels a hand slide over her waist, she tenses and moves to grab their wrist and flip whoever the hell it is over her shoulder.

"Relax," someone breathes into her ear.

"_Shit_," Artemis exhales with a laugh, "Want to warn me or something next time? I was ready to fling you across the room."

Zatanna laughs, drapes her arms around Artemis's neck and steps forward so that their hips are pressed together, and it must be the alcohol or something, but that kind of makes her really wet. Zatanna is _sexy_ and they all know. Artemis has always been aware of this, and there's enough alcohol in her system for her to feel like she _wants_ her best friend.

_Fuck_.

Artemis glances over the dance floor, eyes landing on this kind of tall, lanky redhead across the room staring at her intently just as Zatanna leans in and whispers into her ear, "That redhead over there got this sort of hungry, predator look on her face as soon as you hit the dance floor. Just thought I'd step in and claim you now."

"Thanks," she whispers back.

Zatanna winks, turns them slightly so that she knows the woman sees them kissing.

(And she wonders if Zatanna adds tongue on purpose, or… just _or_.)

Artemis feels a throb between her leg as Zatanna pulls away, but she ignores it as the two of them laugh and go back to dancing.

At least for a few more minutes, anyway, until Zatanna mutters, "Fuck, she's still staring," and Artemis resists being obvious and turning around to see for herself. She doesn't really need to, anyway. All of her training would've been for nothing if she couldn't feel the pair of eyes on her right now.

Then Zatanna grabs her hand and starts tugging her away. "Where are we—"

"Just go along with it."

Artemis catches Megan and Raquel looking at them weirdly and tries to shrug, but then she's being pulled through a door and glaring against the bright (well, bright_er_) lighting. She barely has time to register that they're in the women's bathroom – and that's actually kind of clean for a club – before Zatanna is pulling her into one of the stalls.

"What the hell?" Artemis asks, because seriously, what's going on?

"She's following us," Zatanna explains. "I don't know if she wasn't convinced or…" Artemis sighs, annoyed. Seriously, if this chick ruins the rest of her night, she's going to have to kick someone in the face. "Just, act natural."

"What?"

Zatanna laughs, presses their lips together again and turns them so that her back is against the door of the stall. Artemis is entirely confused, but then she hears this very, very faint sound of a door opening – someone trying to sneak into the bathroom, undetected – and then everything clicks when she realizes that it must be the redhead. She hears the muted clicks of heels moving carefully across the tiled floors, stopping just a few steps away from their stall. _Fuck_, not only is this chick is such a creep but she doesn't know when to stop.

Artemis moans into the kiss, partly for show and mostly because Zatanna pushed her tongue passed Artemis's lips. She doesn't even remember when Zatanna put her hands on her hips, but then she feels her pushing the hem of her dress up so that it's bunched around her waist.

"No panties, babe?" Zatanna asks.

It's an act, since Artemis _is_ wearing a pair, but then Zatanna dips her hand passed the waistband and slides her fingers over Artemis's sex, and the moan Artemis lets out isn't an act at all. She circles her clit once, twice, three times, and then rubs over her bundle of nerves. Artemis lets out a breathy sound and rolls her hips.

Then she pushes two fingers into her and flattens her palm over her clit, and Artemis cries out loudly. She's good at this. She's really, really good at this.

"I…oh. _Oh._"

She's moving her fingers in and out quickly while teasing around her clit with her thumb and there's no rhythm at all, which drives Artemis crazy. She slows down as soon as Artemis's pants started to match her thrusts, pulls her fingers out and draws them up and over her clit, making Artemis shudder. She'll come in second if she keeps doing that.

So it's really fucking _unfair_ how Zatanna pulls her hand away. Artemis whimpers, watches through hooded eyelids as Zatanna licks her lips.

"I need to taste you," she breathes, spreading her legs further and pushing her panties down her hips so that they fall to her knees. Artemis is breathing unevenly, watching Zatanna sinking to her knees and then throwing her head back when her tongue slides up her folds.

"_Fuck_," Artemis cries.

"Exactly what I was thinking," Zatanna murmurs. "You taste _so good_."

She pushes her tongue into her a few times and Artemis rolls her hips, pushes her fingers into the girl's hair. Zatanna draws her tongue up and flattens it against Artemis, then slides it up and circles the tip around her clit a few times. Artemis's legs begin to quiver and Zatanna puts her hands at her hips, keeping her weight balanced against the stall door.

Then she rolls her tongue over her clit, increasing the pressure with every stroke, and moans as she comes, grips Zatanna's hair as the girl continues to lap at her through her orgasm. Artemis tries pulling Zatanna from her because she'll come again if she continues, but Zatanna just bats Artemis's hand away, closes her lips around her clit and sucks on it as she drips her fingers into her again. Artemis cries out as Zatanna increases the rhythm of her fingers and the pressure of her tongue and lips over her bundle of nerves, and she's coming again in seconds. Zatanna pulls her fingers out, laps at her sensitive folds lazily until Artemis has mostly come down from her high.

"_God_, what was… what was _that?_"

Zatanna giggles lightly as she stands up, shrugs one shoulder as she admits, "A fantasy of Dick's, apparently, and kind of mine. I love him, but," she flashes a playful grin, "I've always been a little curious." Then she shrugs both shoulders as she adds, "At least the woman left."

Artemis laughs because, yeah, _at least_. "I love you for this," she tells her, pressing another kiss to the girl's lips. _God_, she can't imagine what Dick and Wally will think, or anyone else for that matter.

Zatanna just smiles cutely. "What else are friends for?"


	30. drabble 30

**Pairing: **Jaime/Cassie**  
Rating:** PG-13?  
**Word Count:** ~1,100

**Note:** AND THIS, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, IS A REMINDER AS TO WHY I DON'T EVER ATTEMPT ANGST. So don't ask me to write angst, because it will be an insult to the entire fandom.

... ...

She watches as Barbara slams into the far wall and falls to the ground. She's not dead; Cassie knows this much. She wasn't thrown with nearly enough force to have been killed from that distance. But she's unconscious and obviously hurt, and that's enough to draw an agonizing cry of her name from three different voices around the room.

"Impressive," Blue Beetle compliments in his low chuckle. "I knew you'd serve the Reach well."

Cassie smiles at him. "Thanks."

"Cassie…"

She glances across the room, eyes landing on where Megan is on the floor, barely keeping herself up by her elbows. Beside her, Garfield is unmoving, breathing very faintly. Megan meets Cassie's eyes, her own puffy and red with tears. "Why?" she practically whispers. She sounds exhausted, defeated.

Blue Beetle floats down beside Cassie, slides his hand over her waist.

"Why else?" Cassie asks. Blue Beetle draws her closer, until she's pressed against him, and she wraps her arms around his shoulders. "You know how it goes." He leans over and kisses her neck. "Love makes you do crazy things."

"Like betray your friends?" Barry practically spits out, glaring.

She smiles, pushes her fingers through Jaime's hair and meets Bart's eyes as she says, "Absolutely."

Jaime chuckles against her throat and slides his lips up, kissing her. She makes his noise from the back of her throat, grips his hair tighter and kisses him deeper. It was hardly an appropriate kiss to share in front of everyone, especially in a situation as twisted as theirs—their Team and the League, battered and bruised, scattered across the Watchtower floor.

But that hardly matters.

"You're disgusting."

Cassie pulls away, smirks a little. "Don't be jealous."

"You're better than this!" Diana yells, getting onto one knee. Cassie blinks. "You're better than _him._"

She feels Jaime tighten his arm around her waist. "Watch it," he says warningly.

"I love him," Cassie says.

"No, you don't," Diana argues. She can tell everyone's watching them, their breaths held. "Listen to reason, Cassie. You only _think_ you love him. He's corrupted you!"

She pulls away from Jaime, takes a step closer and narrows her eyes into slits. "Keep talking and I'll use your own lasso to strangle you."

"You won't do that."

"Diana," Clark says nervously.

"Don't test me," Cassie challenges. "You may have been the one to train me, but being with the Reach has made me better. Love is supposed to strengthen you, right? Following Jaime under the Reach has done nothing _but_ strengthen me, and they helped me realize that whatever love any of you had for me was what was holding me back."

"Listen to yourself!" Conner shouts. "You're so ready to kill Diana for the Reach! That's not even _our_ _Blue!_"

"I'll kill _you_ first if you don't shut up!" Cassie snaps.

"You know I'm right," he continues. "There's no way to tell if that's really our Blue. And maybe he's in there somewhere, but the Scarab's in control. Jaime's long gone and I'll bet the Scarab would happily toss you aside as soon as the Reach doesn't need you anymore."

A shriek rips from her throat as she flings herself across the room, throwing her fist into Conner's chest and sending him backwards and into the wall, just like Barbara.

And Cassie's barely got her feet on the ground again when something slams into her side, sending her skidding against the floor. She tumbles, gets up on her knees as Diana's throwing herself into another hit, and Cassie lunges. Diana is still worn out and nowhere near as well as she should be, so it takes almost nothing for Cassie to have her pinned to the ground. She grasps for her lasso in one second and has it around Diana's neck in the next, and as Cassie's grip tightens on the rope, about to pull, screams echo across the room.

None of them, however, are as loud and shattering as Jaime's.

She feels his armor digging into her back, his wrists tight around hers to keep her in place. His scream is still ringing in her ears and she looks over her shoulder at him, her eyes swelling and her vision blurring because she finally, _finally_, recognized his voice—_his_ voice, _Jaime's_ voice, and not just the Scarab talking through Jaime.

"I won't let you lose yourself!" he whispers harshly, as if he's afraid to speak any louder.

"Blue?" she asks in this soft, barely there voice. For an entire beat, the room is perfectly silent. Then she turns a little more. "Jaime?"

"I won't let the Scarab ruin you," he insists.

He's staring into her eyes and entirely missing the way they're watering, the way her mouth quivers into a smile. Diana pulls herself out from underneath them, sets a hand on Cassie's arm and turns her so that she and Jaime are both kneeling on the ground, facing each other.

"Jaime?" she asks again. She tilts her head to get a better look at his eyes. "Is that you?"

"Yeah, it's…"

But he trails off, eyes widening, and glances down at his own hands, as if this were the first time in a long while that he was seeing through his own eyes again.

Tears slip down Cassie's cheeks. "It's really you!" She whispers on an exhale, and then lets out this laugh and ignores the look of total confusion as she practically tackles him to the ground in a hug. There are several breaths of relief around the room, as if the shift of the atmosphere was tangible and crashed over all of them.

"I told you it'd work," Dick says faintly.

Everyone laughs and Wally slugs him in the arm, but Jaime just pulls away a little, sitting him and Cassie up again as he demands, "What's going on? How did… How did you know you could break the Scarab's control?"

"We didn't," Diana answers. Clark walks over, kneels down to set an arm over her shoulder. "We were just… desperate."

"Understatement of the century," Conner mutters under his breath.

Jaime shakes his head. "_What_ is going on?" He looks at Cassie. "This whole time, you…"

"Cassie only pretended to join the Reach," Conner explains. "She was convinced that you weren't, well, _you_, and that we needed to do everything to snap you out of it. And we decided that the only way was to go to the extremes, and see if watching the girl you loved do something that would ruin her would be enough to bring you back."

Jaime looks at Cassie, who looks at him and shrugs her shoulders. Then he exhales something in Spanish and finally, _finally_, smiles back, brings his hand up and wipes some of the tears from her cheeks.

"I love you," he says, and she just knows he means it. "I love you so much."

She kisses him rather than saying the words back, but she thinks he doesn't mind.


	31. drabble 31

**Pairing: **Dick/Zatanna**  
Rating:** PG-13  
**Word Count:** ~1,000  
**Photo Inspiration:** media. tumblr. /7e1d91e2af80e7b46e1cc7ca3b16 c106/ tumblr_ inline_ mik42o1iNM1qz4rgp. jpg

... ...

John only started walking on his own like, less than a month ago, and it's basically no surprise to them at all that he's already running. Maria was the same way and had almost no trouble getting her little feet to take her places as soon as she got the whole balancing part of it down. She used to fall a lot, too, because she'd always take off a little bit faster than she could handle at the time, and it was one of the hardest things _ever_ not to react like he wanted to so that Maria would learn to pick herself up and not cry over everything. It's not like she really did that in the first place, but still. He saw tears in her eyes the first few falls she took and, yeah, no decent parent ever enjoys seeing their child hurt.

Maria's a little older now and a lot less careless, so they don't worry as much about her hurting herself. It's a good thing, too, because John is more of a handful than his sister ever was and they're always watching to make sure he's not about to run into a wall or pull on a towel and send a stack of dishes over his head or something.

Wally made a joke, once, about how they're sure Maria and John aren't secretly speedsters or something because they're so fast.

Artemis and Zatanna didn't find that too amusing.

Neither did Dick, kind of, even though he's used to Wally putting his foot in his mouth. And obviously he and Zatanna didn't take the comment seriously, but she still reminded him that night exactly how Maria and John were conceived, so like, he can't be _too_ mad at Wally for that.

Anyway, they take the kids out because it's warm enough outside to walk this one trail near their neighborhood that takes you along the shore. They haven't walked it since before John was born, but not because they didn't have the time. The path isn't paved and they couldn't bring a stroller, so they'd go to the park instead because it was easier.

John tries taking off, of course, as soon as Zatanna's let go of his hand.

"Baby, be careful!" Dick calls out.

Maria jogs up to her brother, takes John's tiny hand in hers and says, "Don't let go," in this sweet little voice. It's the same voice she uses to get her daddy to do anything she wants and like, he _knows_ she learned that from her mother, somehow.

John listens to his big sister, too, even more so than he listens to his own parents. It's totally adorable when, you know, they're not trying to discipline him or anything.

Zatanna laces her fingers with his, swings their arms between them a little as they're following a few steps behind their kids. Maria's talking to John, pointing at everything around them and telling him what they're called and what their place is in the world. She does this wherever they go, or even if they're just at home and John's just sitting on the floor watching her read or color or something. She also says that he's probably too little to remember any of this, but that's okay because she'll teach it to him again when he gets older.

"She's going to be a great mother someday," Zatanna says, and yeah, he thinks so, too, but he really doesn't like thinking about his little girl growing up _at all_. He's not even allowed to call her _baby_ anymore, which breaks his heart even though it's amazing to watch her become her own person and everything.

He wants her to stay his little girl, though. He has a feeling that no matter how proud he'll continue to be as his kids grows up, he'll _always_ want them to stay this little.

It's not fair, honestly.

They watch Maria bring her hand up and wipe at her forehead.

"She's probably getting warm," he says.

"And thirsty," Zatanna adds, pulling her hand from his and jogging a few steps to catch up with the kids. "Are you hungry, sweetie?" she asks. Maria bobs her head in a nod. "Go get a snack from Daddy. And drink some water, too, please."

"Okay, Mommy."

Maria gives John's hand to her mother, turns around and giggles as she runs up to Dick. He scoops her into his arms as soon as she's close enough and holds her at his hip. She's a little heavier than she used to be, obviously, but he still carries her as often as possible because he wants to enjoy it while he still can.

"Here you go, baby," he says as he hands her the water bottle. Even if he's technically not supposed to call her that anymore, he'll slip it in, sometimes, to see if she'll let him get away with it. When she's finished a few gulps of water, he asks, "What do you want to eat?"

"Granola," she declares proudly. Alfred has totally got her into eating healthy, which is kind of crazy since she's like, _five_, but whatever. They don't question it.

He tells her to grab one from his backpack, hikes her up his shoulder a little more so she can lean over to grab one, and she giggles like crazy when he pats her bum. John like, immediately stops and looks around as soon as he hears his sister's voice, then gets this _huge_ smile on his face as soon as he sees her again, points and says her name. Maria waves at him with the hand holding her granola bar and Zatanna lifts John into her arms and slows down until they're walking side by side again.

"Did you have fun today?" Zatanna asks.

Maria nods excitedly. "Can we walk here all the time?"

John claps his hands a little, and Dick slides his hand over the small of Zatanna's back when he says that it sounds like a plan.


	32. drabble 32

**Pairing: **Dick/Zatanna**  
Rating:** PG-13  
**Word Count:** ~1,200  
**Photo Inspiration:** media. tumblr. /75f3f6481e89729183e986d9897e d72d/ tumblr_ inline_ miluc718ej1qz4rgp. jpg

... ...

She wakes up with Dick's arm draped around her waist, their legs tangled together underneath the covers and his forehead just barely touching hers.

She loves her mornings.

And she smiles, says, "I know you're awake, Dick," because she can just tell. This wouldn't be the first time he's pretended to be asleep just so he can have an excuse to hold her longer and keep them in this bed. Obviously she never has a problem with that, but they _do _have places to be today and they can't laze around in bed all morning.

He doesn't react, just keeps breathing softly as if he were still fast asleep.

She could just pretend to move and he'll pull her back into place and have to acknowledge that he's actually awake. She's done it before. And she's not all that eager to get out of this bed, too, but like she said, they _do_ have plans today and not the kind they can just skip out on without getting an earful from about thirty different people. Dick probably already knows that she'd much rather hang around the house with him all day and that's why he's doing this. If she were actually worried about being late, he would've gotten up by now.

So she leans up and kisses him gently, then squeals against his lips a little when he rolls them over so he's on his back and she's lying against his chest. He pushes his fingers into her hair, brings her face to his and kisses her, hard, making her let out this noise from the back of her throat.

Like she said, she _loves_ her mornings. Honestly, mornings and those odd hours of the night when they spend time together before they go to bed… Those are her _favorite_ parts of the day because it's pretty much the only time she and Dick have a chance to like, _breathe _and remember how easy it is to forget all of their problems when they're together.

She pulls away after a few seconds to catch her breath and Dick kisses the underside of her jaw. "Good morning," he mumbles against her skin.

"Good morning," she says with a laugh. "Come on. We need to get up."

"No we don't."

"Dick…" She tries pulling herself up, but he circles both arms around her to hold her in place. "We'll end up being late, _again_."

"We have three hours until the thing starts," he reminds. "That's plenty of time before we have to get ready."

"That's a lot less time than you think considering that we're supposed to be there an hour early to help set up. And I still have to make the strawberries, remember?" He loosens his hold around her and she moves so that she's basically sitting on his chest. "Oh, stop pouting. This party is for all of us."

It's the truth, even though Clark claimed the party was to celebrate the reopening of the Hall of Justice. They all heard the double meaning. This party is basically a way to celebrate the fact that they survived an alien invasion and all of the hurt and trauma and fear that's been with them the last few years. They _survived_ through _everything_. They made it this far.

It's important that they celebrate this.

And like Dick can tell this is what she's thinking about, his eyes soften a little and he says, "I know," in this quiet voice. She leans over, kisses him gently. "I love you."

"I love you, too," she tells him. Then she slides herself off of him and stands next to the bed. "Want to help me?"

"I get to melt the chocolate," he declares as he gets up.

She laughs.

He threads his fingers with hers as they walk out of their bedroom and into the kitchen, and yes, they're not putting any more clothes on than what they're already wearing. This is their house and they're not expecting any visitors right now, so it's perfectly fine for her to just be in her bra and panties and for Dick to just be in his boxers.

So she ties her hair back and they wash their hands, and Dick starts melting the fast-hardening chocolate in three separate pots (they have milk, dark, and white chocolate) over burners while she starts cutting the strawberries. Their neighborhood farmer's market was yesterday and they literally bought dozens and dozens of strawberries, not just for today but for themselves, too, because the family they buy from grow the sweetest fruits _ever_. And she knows you usually keep the leaves on for chocolate-covered strawberries, but she cuts the leaves off for hers because, even though it's a little trickier when it comes to dipping them in the chocolate, it's just less of a hassle for everyone eating them.

She transfers the strawberries to a strainer once she's filled her bowl, rinses them underneath the tap and sets them back on the counter. Dick stabs one with a fork, dips it haphazardly through the melted dark chocolate and holds it up to her lips. She's about to remark about how they're supposed to wait for the chocolate to actually harden, but then her hand shoots out to catch the chocolate when it starts dripping and parts her lips and takes a bite.

She licks her lips as Dick pops the rest of it into his mouth, then grasps her wrist and brings her hand up, licking the drops of chocolate from her skin. "You're going to make a mess," she says when he stabs another with his fork and swipes it through the milk chocolate. "And stop it! These are for the party."

"We're taste-testing."

She shakes her head, amused.

He grins like he knows he's won and she parts her lips to take a bite from the second strawberry. He's smarter this time, too, and cups his hand underneath the strawberry to catch the chocolate. She licks those drops off of his skin as he finishes the strawberry.

"Enough," she tells him, because he's giving her this _look_ that has her seriously considering forgetting about their plans entirely.

"We still have the white chocolate," he points out.

"Fine," she says. She takes the fork from him, stabs a small strawberry and coats it in the white chocolate before feeding it to him. He puts a hand at her hip, just because, and her eyes fall onto the smudge of white chocolate at the corner of his mouth as he's chewing. She can feel his hands playing with the lace of her panties.

"You've got chocolate on your lip."

"So do you," he tells her, and somehow it sounds almost challenging.

She brings her hand up to wipe the chocolate off with her thumb, but then he's grasping her wrist again and holding her hand away as he leans forward and licks the chocolate. She closes her eyes, swipes her tongue over his lips and barely registers the sound of the fork clattering against the counter when she drops it so she can push her fingers into his hair. He hoists her up onto the counter of kitchen island, stands between her knees as he kisses her deeper, and in the back of her mind she tells herself that there's nothing wrong with being fashionably late.


	33. drabble 33

**Pairing: **Dick/Zatanna**  
Rating:** PG-13  
**Word Count:** ~900  
**Photo Inspiration:** media. tumblr. /c763b67fa3cc9a722be9a332d68d 55f7/ tumblr_ inline_ mioqxbiVuQ1qz4rgp. jpg

... ...

It's pretty much a given that Maria's going to be everyone's little Barbie doll. And they don't mean it in a bad way, even though comparing a little girl to a plastic toy suggests otherwise.

Everyone just loves getting Maria clothes when they're not buying her different cookbooks and baking supplies and entire seasons of Cake Boss on DVD, and Maria loves being able to tell people how her Uncle Alfred or Auntie Megan bought this for her when someone compliments what she's wearing. And Maria, herself, isn't a clothes fanatic, doesn't have a certain style she requires or a specific color that she won't wear. She just sees fashion like decorating her desserts or presenting her entrees—the importance of being pretty and clean but not overdone and experimenting different things that go together until you get something you're proud of.

And yes, those words came out of their third grader's mouth.

They shouldn't be surprised, either, because Maria is insanely smart and creative and says these insightful things all the time. You'd think they'd be used to her blurting out these words of wisdom all the time and yeah, they kind of are, but sometimes she'll say something and they'll kind of be taken aback by it because they remember that she's _eight_.

And it's not just Maria. John started talking and writing early and now reads things kids at least a year older than him still have trouble with. He has an amazing memory, too, and sometimes he'll blurt out all of these random facts he read about or that Grandpa Bruce or Uncle Alfred told him or that he saw on TV or something.

She always knew their children were going to be little geniuses. Look at their dad.

"Sweetie, do your feet hurt?"

Maria's wearing ballet flats, because they went with the black, faux-scaled dress Selina bought her. It's designer, obviously, but Selina got it for more than half the original price because she likes being able to get away with that kind of stuff even though they seriously don't hurt for money. Maria loves this dress. She loves all of her clothes, actually, because she loves that her family thinks of her when they buy things. It's totally amazing that their eight-year-old daughter already knows to appreciate the sentimental value of her gifts.

And she and Dick haven't had to buy her or John clothes since they were born. They still do, of course, because they love dressing them up, too. But it's very convenient that most of their wardrobes didn't come out of their own pockets, so they can spend that money on other stuff the kids want and have earned.

"A little," Maria admits quietly, like she's afraid Artemis (who bought her these flats) will somehow hear it even though they're in an entirely different city.

"Don't feel bad," Dick tells Maria with a laugh.

She looks up at them, squinting against the sunlight. The plaza that they're shopping in is an outdoor one, which is why they love coming here. It's open and on nice days like today, the kids can still play without having to be stuck inside a stuffy mall the entire time. And it's totally true what people say about fresh air and sunlight putting you in a better mood.

"Here, sit down and I'll put on your other shoes," Dick says, and Maria sits down on the bench, giggles like crazy when he does this grand flourish of getting on one knee and removing her flat like she's a princess.

"I'm not a princess, Daddy," she reminds, still grinning widely.

"I know," Dick says.

"She's a superhero!" John exclaims in his mother's arms. He's got a little ice-cream on his face and Zatanna laughs as she wipes it off. She and Dick were afraid that John was going to grow up and realize his sister's a _girl_ and not love her as much anymore, but of course they were worrying for nothing. John still pretty much idolizes her, actually.

Zatanna sets John down, takes his melted cup of ice-cream from his hand as he gives his sister a high-five.

"There," Dick says once he's gotten Maria's Nikes on her feet. Maria jumps off of the bench, adjusting the strap of her little purse so that it's resting at her hip properly.

"Can we go to the thrift shop now?" Maria asks.

"Let me throw this first, sweetie," Zatanna tells her as she's walking to the nearby trash can. She tosses the melted ice-cream and used napkins inside, pulls out a travel-sized hand sanitizer from her purse and rubs some onto her hands. When she turns back around, Maria's pulling out her sunglasses from her little bag and pushing them over her eyes.

They start walking and Dick puts a hand over her hip and says, "_God_, she looks just like you."

"She _is_ my daughter."

Dick grins. Walking a few steps ahead of them, Maria and John are laughing about something she didn't catch. "I'm going to be in so much trouble when she gets older."

"She'll be fine," Zatanna tells him.

"She's going to be just like you," he reminds. "She'll be so charming, and guys won't be able to help themselves, you know?"

"She'll be _fine_," she repeats, laughing this time as she leans into Dick's side. "She'll be able to stand up for herself and hold her own, and she'll have all of us if she can't. Besides, if she's just like me, then one day she'll find a cute, geeky kid who will treat her like gold. Then she'll never want to bother with other boys ever again."

Dick raises one eyebrow. "Geeky?" he asks.

"You were a mathlete, babe." He fakes an offended scoff. "Hey, I happen to find geeky incredibly sexy."

And he just chuckles, tightens his grip at her waist and says that he knows.


	34. drabble 34

**Pairing: **Dick/Zatanna**  
Rating:** PG-13  
**Word Count:** ~1,100  
**Photo Inspirations:  
**- media. tumblr. /1ef25f5d4a09ba9e78c3ee55799c 966a/ tumblr_ inline_ mipm58hWaI1qz4rgp. jpg  
- media. tumblr. /ba30cf701aba69bdd77dd7d0ad6c 39c4/ tumblr_ inline_ mipm5vLzED1qz4rgp. jpg

... ...

They've lived in this house for more than half a year now when she realizes that she's never once been in the pool that's in their backyard. It's probably because they moved in at the end of fall and it's only now starting to warm up again since they're well into spring and quickly approaching summer. They could've always heated the pool if they wanted to, but it just seemed little silly at the time because it was raining nonstop the first week or two they got settled in and then they were into winter and it was snowing all the time.

Now it's sunny all the time since the spring showers have died down and the days land anywhere between high-70s and mid-80s.

She knows that's not terribly hot, but it can feel like it when there isn't a breeze and you have the sun beating down on you all the time. And it's kind of like, the perfect temperature, because it's hot enough to wear light clothing but not too hot make you feel sluggish and lazy.

She loves it.

And she knows she has this one bikini she's never worn yet because Artemis bought it for her towards the end of their vacation in Florida and she forgot to wear it the last time they swam at the beach. It's maroon with these light blue and gold beads at the ends of the strings and she _loves_ it. Now she has an excuse to wear it.

She finally does on an insignificant Thursday. It's getting darker by the time she's getting back from the restaurant. The dress rehearsal for her show in two days ran a little longer than necessary because they had to coordinate lighting and all of that, but otherwise it went smoothly and she feels confident about having an amazing show for the weekend.

"What do you want me to make for dinner?"

"I can pick something up," Dick offers. She has him on speaker, her phone sitting on the counter of the breakfast bar as she's flipping through their recipe album.

"Dick…"

"You're just getting home, right? Then don't worry about it. It'll be easier."

"Are you sure?" She actually doesn't feel like cooking right now, which is weird because she usually loves it, especially for Dick.

"Just relax. I'm literally about to leave work and I can pick something up and be there in half an hour, tops."

She exhales, says that she loves him as she's shutting the recipe album closed. He says the words back and sounds amused, which he probably is. She always worries over admittedly silly things that she knows he won't sweat over, like her not making dinner for one night. And it's not that she feels obligated to make dinner, but he always makes her breakfast because he's just up earlier than she is and since she typically gets home before him, she makes dinner. It's their routine and she loves it.

She just _really_ doesn't feel like cooking tonight.

He hangs up after promising to be home soon and she tucks the album back into its place in an overhead cabinet before, catching a glimpse of the pool. It's hard to miss it since it's pretty big and their house has so many windows that it feels like it's made out of glass. That's also ironic, having a house that's so open even though their lives are so secretive.

(Yes, that was the entire point, and no one seemed to understand why they found it _so funny_ when they first bought the place.)

It takes like, two seconds for her to decide that she kind of really wants to take a swim.

Yes. She thinks she will.

She doesn't know how long she's been in the water when she hears Dick's car pulling into the driveway, and when he walks through the front door, he looks right at her through the windows and gets this _smile_ on his face. She smiles back, lifts her hand from the water to wave and watches him chuckle.

He disappears into the house for a few minutes and she sort of just swims around a little until she hears the sliding door from the kitchen to the backyard open and turns to see Dick walking towards her in swim trunks and nothing else. He's smiling at her as he comes up to the side of the pool, gets down on one knee and leans over to kiss her on the lips.

"Swim with me."

He sets a hand on the back of her neck and kisses her a little deeper.

"Dick," she laughs breathlessly. "Please?"

And he just winks at her before jumping into the middle of the deep end, splashing her where she's standing. He shakes his head out when he resurfaces, getting drops of water everywhere and making her laugh. He flashes a smile, locks his eyes with hers as he swims backwards until his back is against the wall of the deep end. She bites her lower lip because she _knows_ the look he's giving her and if they're not careful… Well, they've had sex in some very public places when there was a more-than-slim chance of getting caught.

You can only imagine what they can and probably will do in their own backyard.

Still, she swims over and drapes her arms around his neck. His arm circles her waist and pulls her against him, turns them so that her back is against the wall and he's pressing against her front and props his other arm over the side of the pool to keep them upright while they're not treading.

He leans forward and kisses the underside of her jaw. "Welcome home," she whispers into his ear, and he hums against her skin.

"It's good to be home."

She bites her lower lip, just barely presses her hips against him.

"You look beautiful," he tells her.

"It's just the bikini." She meant it teasingly, because Dick tells her all the time how beautiful he finds her.

But then he moves his hand up from her waist, slides his fingers up her spin to play with the knot keeping her bikini top in place. His voice is low in her ear as he says, "Oh yeah?" in this way that makes her shiver in anticipation because he sounds like he's about to prove to how much he loves her with the bikini off and she really, really wants him to.


	35. drabble 35

**Pairing: **Kaldur/Artemis**  
Rating:** NC-17  
**Word Count:** ~1,000

... ...

She wonders if she still would've shown up to Kaldur's quarters tonight had she known that this would've been the outcome.

Well, no. That's a lie. She _knows_ she still would have.

She just thinks that somewhere between all of this, she's supposed to feel guilty. After all, she has a boyfriend, and really, really good one at that. They walked away from this life so that they could share a simple, normal one together in college. It seemed like it was the first time, _ever_,that she felt truly loved and safe and taken care of. She was _happy_.

And she still jumped on the first chance she got to leave all of that and put on the mask again, just like how tonight, she jumped at the first chance she got to…

She's a horrible person.

She's a horrible, _horrible_ person.

"Artemis…"

It's barely above a whisper, but of course she still hears it, sucks down a little harder in response.

Kaldur grips the edge of the mattress, murmuring something she can't understand as she swirls around him, sucks down harder again. He jerks his hips just a little. She can tell he's trying to hold back. From what, she doesn't know, but it kind of upsets her because she doesn't want him to.

So she gets up, sets a hand on his shoulder and knee against the mattress for balance as she grasps him with her other hand, squeezing lightly. "Kaldur," she breathes, right by his ear, and slides her fingers up and down his length in a way she knows is too slow. She thinks she hears him curse as he pushes his hips again, but she could just be imagining things. "Kiss me," she tells him, and he groans almost in defeat, pushes his fingers into her hair and kisses her, hard, as she continues to stroke him through his orgasm.

When he's calmed down a little more, she kisses his cheek gently, walks into his bathroom to wash her hands. She wets a towel with warm water and brings it out for him, lies across his mattress on her side with her back to him as he cleans himself off.

"Artemis," he says.

"Don't." She almost laughs. "I know I'm going to hell."

"Then at least I will know someone there," he exhales, and this time she _does_ laugh, just a little, and turns to see if he's being serious. She can tell part of him is, but there's a smile on his face. Then he says, "Allow me to return the favor," and she stops laughing so suddenly that it would've been comical, had it been any other situation.

"Kaldur… We shouldn't."

It's the most hypocritical excuse, ever, especially coming from her, but the second he offered to get her off, too, she got this warmth between her legs and she's trying so hard to remember that she still has a boyfriend who's one of Kaldur's best friends and it's just _wrong_.

But then she's rolling onto her back, closing her eyes when his hand falls over her hip and slides up her side, finding the zipper of her costume.

He takes his time removing everything until she's beneath him with her legs parted and the front of her panties completely soaked, these slightly uneven breaths coming out of her mouth as he's sliding his lips down her skin. Then he's pushing her panties down her legs, tossing them aside, and she swallows a cry when he licks up her slick folds.

He presses his palm against her thigh, spreads her legs wider and rolls his tongue over her. She grasps the comforter tightly between her fingers when he pushes his tongue into her, swiping his thumb over her clit and making her hips snap up. He draws his tongue up and flattens it against her, and she's trying not to make any sound. There are these barely there moans and broken pants in time with his thrusting, and there are tears in her eyes because this is the first time since Wally that someone other than herself has gotten her off.

She comes with his tongue moving over her clit, and he continues lapping at her folds until she feels the pleasure building up again and she gently pushes his head from her. She needs to come again, but she doesn't want it to be in this way.

"Kaldur," she breathes.

And it's like he somehow knows what she's thinking, because he pulls himself over her without having to be told much else. She pushes his boxers from his hips, runs her tongue against the roof of her mouth in anticipation as he's shifting to take his boxers off and toss them aside.

She feels him against her entrance and she practically moans his name and then bites her lower lip, hard, when he rolls his hips and sinks into her. Then he thrusts into her entirely and suddenly and she lets out a cry. He presses his lips to hers as her moans begin to get a little louder, probably to keep her quiet because even if the entire ship suspects there's something going on between them, they don't need everyone _hearing_ all of it. He angles his hips and grazes her spot, making her roll her hips against his in response, bringing him deeper. He continues to thrust at this angle, making her gasp every time he hits her spot.

She's _crying_ now. She hadn't even realized just how much she'd been holding back—not just physically, but emotionally, too—and it wouldn't surprise her if Kaldur did this with the intention of helping her relieve some of her frustrations.

She loves him for it.

He kisses her when she comes, and then harder as he's climaxing, and she rubs her fingers absently over his shaved head as she's trying to steady her breathing. She thinks (knows) they should talk about it, the fact that they said names other than each other's during their orgasms.

But instead, he asks her if she's willing to do it again and no more than a minute later, she's rolling him onto his back and grinding her hips down onto his.


	36. drabble 36

**Pairing: **Dick/Zatanna**  
Rating:** PG-13  
**Word Count:** ~1,300  
**Photo inspiration: **media. tumblr. /aede5ef731c0137b697476183e92 919e/ tumblr_ inline_ mjh71mVJLf1qz4rgp. jpg**  
**

**_I hit 400 followers on tumblr! So to show you my thanks, have some Chalant._**

... ...

Bruce has this house up in the mountains and it's like… It's _beautiful_ and very warm and cozy, and it's in an amazing area with tall trees and a lake. It's a gorgeous place and the view is amazing, and when Dick mentions something about Wally wanting them to get away for the next two weeks, it's literally the first thing that pops into her head.

She loves this place. It's her favorite of all of Bruce's vacation homes.

(Well, maybe after the private island.)

When the four of them—Wally, Artemis, Dick and her—walk through door, it's pretty instantaneous, the feeling she gets that she never wants to leave. She got a similar feeling when she first visited this place and it just gets progressively stronger with every visit. The next time they stay here, she may just end up bringing everything from their apartment and moving them in. It's totally possible, too, since the place has zeta tubes and Bruce's security and everything, so they're not at isolated or without technology and safety. And if they don't want to zeta for groceries and that stuff, the nearest city is only half an hour away, and that's just because it takes a while to get onto the main highway from this area.

Dick chuckles when she points this out, but it doesn't sound patronizing; it sounds like he's entertained this same idea once or twice before.

"I wish," he says, setting their bags down away from the staircase. They're staying in the loft because they gave up the master bedroom to Wally and Artemis, because it's on the same floor as the kitchen and that was important for Wally.

Dick sets his hand over her hip and pulls her against his chest. "Someday?" she asks, looking up at him.

"Someday," he promises, sliding his hand into the back pocket of her shorts as he kisses her gently, almost lazily. She loves it when they can kiss like this. She loves it when they can take their time, when she can hold him just because she wants to and not because she's afraid to let go because they're in danger and she has no idea when she'll see him again.

"Are you hungry?"

"Starving," he replies.

Artemis and Wally are nowhere to be found when they make it downstairs, which isn't a surprise at all. They're probably in their room, trying to be quiet, and when they hear the muted thud of something being knocked over, she bites her lower lip and pushes her face into Dick's shoulder to keep from laughing.

"They're so bad," he chuckles, but then she splays her fingers across his shirt, ghosting her touch over his abs through the thin material of his button-down, and he makes this noise from the back of his throat. "Not that we're really any better, but…"

"They just got each other back," she reminds. "They're allowed to be bad."

"Then so are we." He presses her against the kitchen island, kisses her throat. She closes her eyes and tips her head back, pushing her fingers through his hair. "But I don't mind having to wait for those two to be done and go somewhere else. That way we won't have to be nearly as quiet."

"I'll hold you to it," she says, and he slides his lips up and kisses her temple. "So, what shall we eat?"

Bruce had the kitchen entirely restocked yesterday before the four of them got here, even though they told him they didn't mind having to go grocery shopping. They're kind of glad that everything's here already, though, because they're feeling kind of lazy right now and don't really want to drive into the town yet. And she's crazing something sweet right now, so she cuts up some fresh fruit for them, grabs a few cups of Greek yogurt and bottles of water, a basket to put everything in and a few blankets for them to sit on outside.

They set up on the edge of the little dock off of the side of the house, and the water looks so beautiful and clear when she looks down. She kind of really wants to go in, but she's still feeling really lazy right now and they have two weeks all to themselves out here, so she's pretty sure they'll get to go swimming sometime soon.

"I love it here." Dick hums in agreement as he's setting up. "I love you."

He meets her eyes. "'Tanna…"

"I love you," she says a little louder this time, because it's sort of just hitting her. She's probably always known this, but then they were stupid and afraid and pretended like they were just friends, and then Artemis _died_, and then the truth came out and she was just so angry and confused.

But she _loves_ him. She thinks she has since they were younger. Maybe not the exact moment they met, but it sort of just crept on her, slowly, and then she kissed him on New Year's and it came crashing down on her, but it was too early in their lives to be sure that she loved this boy she's only known for a few months and it freaked her out, really.

She loves him. She _loves_ him.

"I love you," she says again, feeling her cheeks flush because he's sort of just staring at her intently, like he wants to…

"I love you, too."

He sets his hand over the back of her neck and kisses her, hard, making her whimper and grasp the front of his church. She almost forgets about their snack when he kisses her again, but she twists her head away and laughs breathily, murmuring that the yogurt will spoil if they continue. He chuckles and reaches into the basket.

When they make it back into the house a little over an hour later, Wally and Artemis are standing at the kitchen island, changed and packing two small backpacks.

"You two have fun?" Wally asks.

"Did _you?_" Dick counters, and Wally just laughs.

"Are you guys going for a hike?" she asks Artemis, helping the girl slip the pile of Tupperware and energy bars into both bags.

"Yup," Artemis answers, leaning over to peck the girl's cheek. "So try not to make too much noise and freak out the wilderness, alright? I'd rather not try to fight off a bear that freaked out because you two were being loud."

"Artemis," she says. Normally she would've just laughed off the comment, but it makes her blush. Artemis blinks, obviously taken aback by the girl's reaction as well.

Then Dick says, "I make no promises, because I plan to show 'Tanna just how much I love her."

Silence.

"Love," Wally repeats slowly.

Artemis looks between them and Zatanna bites her lower lip. "Oh, my gosh, Zatanna," Artemis squeals, wrapping her arms around her best friend and squeezing tightly. From her peripheral, Zatanna sees Wally clapping his hand over Dick's shoulder, the two of them exchanging smiles. "Congratulations, you two! It took you long enough!"

"Artemis," she laughs. Her eyes feel a little watery but she thinks that it's fitting right now, considering what just happened.

"Sorry," Artemis apologizes, wiping at the corner of her eyes. She slips the strap of her backpack over her shoulder and hands Wally the other. "Okay, okay, we're leaving."

Wally calls something over his shoulder that she doesn't hear over Artemis telling him to stop being so inappropriate, and then they sort of slam the door and their voices get muffled as they're walking further and further from the house.

Dick stands behind her, sets a hand over her hip and kisses her shoulder, and she threads their fingers together and tugs him up the stairs. He pushes down on her shoulders gently, so she's sitting on the edge of the bed, and he kneels between her legs and kisses her gently with her hands in his hair and his fingers playing with the skin above the waistband of her shorts. She slides her left hand down, fingertips grazing his cheek, and he places his hand over hers and mumbles her name against her lips as he pushes his thumb over the ring glistening on her fourth finger.


	37. drabble 37

**Pairing: **Wally/Artemis**  
Rating:** PG-13  
**Word Count:** ~1,000  
**Photo inspiration: **media. tumblr b969fad38108695df0ca4d6b97bf fe73/ tumblr_ inline_ mjskff1MOZ1qz4rgp. jpg

... ...

There's a little too much commotion going on right now for him and all he really wants to do is sit outside, take a breath and maybe even have a beer. Artemis would probably yell at him if he told her ("We're at a _church_, Wally!"), but the last few weeks leading up to today have been a lot more stressful than he thought they'd be and he's only _human_.

Well, he's a speedster, but whatever.

You get what he means.

And he never understood weddings. Like, he obviously gets the meaning behind them and why they're special and everything. He understands _that_.

He just doesn't understand why something that's supposed to be one of the happiest days of your life is so stressful. He's been part of so many now because he was either in it or helping plan it and he knows the drill—the closer you get to the actual day, the worse things seem to get. He doesn't really understand the compulsive need for everything to go so _perfectly_ in order for people involved in planning to be satisfied. You want things to go smoothly and according to plan, yes, but everyone knows that any plan of action never survives contact with the enemy. And yes, he thinks that this analogy is entirely appropriate for the situation. If they'd all remember this, the rest of today would be a lot more pleasant.

Not that he's actually going to say this out loud. He's not _stupid._

Artemis would understand him. She'd probably scold him or something for being insensitive, but she'd understand.

And he's only been outside for like, _two minutes_ when he hears someone call his name. He sighs and looks over his shoulder as Dick's jogging down the steps, grinning at Wally like he knows he's interrupted his quiet time, and Wally glares to let him know that he's an ass for doing so.

"Hey, man," Dick says, clapping his hand against Wally's shoulder. "You are in so much trouble."

"Why?"

"Everyone's been looking for you."

"What?" Wally glances at his watch. Shit. It starts in two minutes. "I didn't realize I'd been… Okay, whatever, let's get inside before Artemis kills me," he says, tucking a hand into his pocket as he climbs the steps. But as he's heading towards the double-doors, Dick grabs his arm. "What, man?"

"Go down that hallway," Dick says, nodding to their right.

"But what about—"

"Just do it," Dick laughs, then pulls away and heads back inside.

At first Wally sort of just stares after him, debating whether or not to just go inside anyway. He wouldn't put it past his best friend to try and get him into _more_ trouble with Artemis by making him even later.

But he heads in that direction, anyway, because it _is_ Dick. Sometimes it's just better to just trust him.

Then he turns the corner and finds her standing in the middle of the hallway and, yeah, he's glad he trusted Dick's word this time around. She really _does_ look beautiful, though he hasn't gone a day without thinking that. He'd tell her it, too, because this is the first time he's seen her today and it sort of hit him pretty hard, turning the corner and seeing her standing there with her hair pulled back underneath her veil, in her big, white dress that he's also seeing for the first time. His eyes water almost instantly, and no, he's not ashamed to admit this. But he also notices that she's got her hands on her hips and her eyes aimed at the floor and he's already pushing his thoughts aside to give him all of his attention.

"Hey," he says, and her head snaps up. Her eyes are glassy with tears, and he knows the only reason she's not crying right now is because she doesn't want to ruin her makeup. She's always been impossibly stubborn, and he's always loved that about her.

"Hi, Daddy," Ellie breathes.

He smiles, walks over and grasps her arms just above her elbow, and she grips onto the sleeves of his blazer. "How are you feeling?" he asks.

"Fine," she exhales. He raises his eyebrows. "I'm nervous."

"Why? Cory won't skip out on you," Wally tells her, and he knows she's laughing because his sounded a lot more like he was threatening Cory than he was reassuring her. (And, okay, maybe he's had a few talks with Cory before and after the boy had proposed to his daughter, but whatever. He's the dad. It's his _job._) "You don't have to be nervous, honey."

"What if I mess something up? I _always_ mess something up," she says.

He brings a hand up, tucks his fingers underneath her chin and tilts her head so she's looking at him. "He'll love you, anyways. He loves you _now_. You think I'd put on this stupid tie and watch my daughter leave me for a man who didn't love everything about her?"

"I'm not leaving you, Daddy."

"Oh, yes you are. If anything, _I_ should be the one crying." She laughs again, eyelashes dotting with tears when she blinks. He smiles. "You know, I always mess things up, too."

"I know," she says, giggling when he rolls his eyes. "Mom always says that you're the one I get it from."

"Okay, I'm ignoring that." She flashes a smile. "My point is that I always mess things up, and does your mother still love me?" Ellie nods. "And if Cory felt even an ounce of how your mother feels about me towards you—which he does—then you have nothing to worry about."

"Daddy… That sentence was horrible."

He scowls, pretending to be offended as he pulls away. "Unless you want to walk _yourself_ down the aisle—"

She stretches up and kisses his cheek. "You wouldn't leave me," she tells him, sounding so much like her mother, and he just smiles because it's true.

Then she slips her hand into the crook of his arm and makes him promise not to let her fall in her heels. She doesn't, anyway, and without his help, and he thinks, briefly, about the symbolism of it all before he's kissing her temple and placing her hand in Cory's. When he takes his seat beside Artemis in the pew, she sets her hand on his leg just above his knee, squeezing a little. "Took you long enough," she whispers, and he chuckles faintly, slides his arm around her waist and settles his hand over her hip as the mass begins.


	38. drabble 38

**Pairing: **Dick/Zatanna**  
Rating:** PG-13  
**Word Count:** ~1,000  
**Photo inspiration: **media. tumblr c49434c414306d208be41782e11e 0106/ tumblr_ inline_ mjtl5t8S571qz4rgp. jpg

... ...

Megan got everyone planners for the New Year—pink with white polka dots for the girls and blue with white stripes for the guys—and passed them out as people were leaving hers and Conner's house in the early hours of the morning.

He wonders how long she'd been planning this, because she'd taken the time to go through every one of them with small stickers and colored ink and write in birthdays and anniversaries and other significant dates. And the only reason he noticed right away was because he couldn't go to sleep that night (or, well, technically that _morning_), was flipping through his and saw an American flag sticker on July 4. Beside it in the July 8 box read, _Anniversary of the Team's official founding_ in red ink and her swirly script, and she'd circled a few times. Then he grabbed Zatanna's planner where she'd left it on the nightstand, flipped to July and saw that the same things had been written in for her, too.

It's insanely sweet and totally something Megan would do.

She's big on parties and comes up with every excuse imaginable to get together for dinner or brunch or to go out because she made reservations for some place or has an itinerary for the day. She loves celebrating, but what she loves most is bringing them all together.

And no matter how tiring it sometimes seems, at the end of the day, he knows they all love her for giving them excuses to drop their lives for a few hours and just be together. These calendars are basically part of their daily routine, and everyone has them handy almost all the time because they'll get a text or an e-mail or even a call from Megan giving them official dates and times and details to write in. And it's not like they don't make their own plans every now and then, or would forget to meet up if she didn't plan everything.

Megan's just better at it.

Anyway, he calls Zatanna in the car on his way home from the meeting (he's going to have _words_ with whoever scheduled it on a Saturday morning) because she was asleep when he had to wake up and leave and he just wants to hear her voice. And as soon as he does, his day already feels a lot better than it started.

When he tells her that, she says, "Stop," with a laugh. He smiles. "Well, since you're already dressed up, why don't we go somewhere fancy for lunch?"

"You just keep making my day better and better." She laughs again. "Want me to see if they've got something open for us at that sushi place downtown that you love?"

"You're Dick Grayson. Of course they're going to have something open for us."

He chuckles, shakes his head even though she can't see it. Even after they got married, she still teases him about the fact that people cater to his will because he's the son of billionaire Bruce Wayne. Actually, Dick's pretty sure the teasing has only gotten worse _since_ they got married, because people do the same with her now that she's carrying his last name. He'd point out that they'd probably do whatever she asked them too, anyway, because she's _manipulative _without trying, let alone when she actually wants to be.

But if he tells her that now, she's probably going to drag him into the bedroom and never let him leave. Not that you'd ever find him complaining about that, but that can always wait until later, after they've been fed and he's properly enjoyed the day and the nice weather with her.

She tells him that she loves him and he tells that he'll be home as soon as possible, and that he loves her more, and hangs up before she can protest.

It's basically their thing.

When he gets home a little less than half an hour later, he pulls into the driveway, cuts the engine and doesn't bother locking the doors before he heads into the house.

"Zatanna?" he calls out. The living room and kitchen are empty, which is a little strange because it doesn't usually take her too long to get ready, so if she started after they got off the phone, she should've been downstairs waiting for him to get home already.

Then he hears a faint, "Up here," come from their bedroom and he heads up the stairs.

"What are you doing?" he asks, amused. She's dressed in white sundress dotted with black polka dots, lying on the bed with her back against the mattress and her legs dangling off of the side. She rolls her head to the side and smiles at him, and he chuckles and walks over to the bed, lies on his stomach beside and props himself up by his elbow.

"Hi," she greets.

"Hi," he says back, laughing a little. "Not that we're in any rush, but is there a particular reason why you're just laying here?"

"I needed a minute." He arches an eyebrow, and she reaches for her planner where it's resting on the pillows beside her. "I wanted to wear white today. You know, because the weather's so nice? But then I got a little worried and started looking through my planner and, well… Notice anything?"

She hands it to him, and he sets it on the bed in front of him and looks down at the month of March. He's not really sure what he's supposed to be looking at here, but in yesterday's date, there's the word _late _and red question mark in the bottom, right-hand corner of the box. He blinks, because he knows that there's typically a red, bubbled-in circle in that corner at least five or six days out of every month. He flips back to February and sees that, sure enough, the dots are there in the third week. He goes back three more weeks, to the end of January, and again, the last week has the dots there, too.

He flips back to March and laughs, despite feeling like the worst detective, ever, when he finally notices the plus-sign in the corner of today's date, in pink highlighter.

She's smiling a widely when he looks at her again, her bottom lip between her teeth. He slides a hand over her stomach as he breathes, "You're…" and she nods, sets a hand over his on her stomach and presses the other against his cheek.

"I think I might be pregnant."


	39. drabble 39

**Pairing: **Dick/Zatanna**  
Rating:** PG-13  
**Word Count:** ~1,100  
**Photo inspiration: **media. tumblr. /023d3eec4ac3c21b537eb42a61e7 3424/ tumblr_ inline_ mjvsl38gl21qz4rgp. jpg

... ...

It's obviously not what sold them on the house, but it's become one of their favorite things about it—their chalkboard kitchen.

That's what the kids call it, anyway, and it's totally adorable that they do. The previous owners had chalkboard surfaces installed on the island countertop and the refrigerator doors and the space on the wall between the counters and the overhead cabinets; the rest of the kitchen is stainless steel and white granite and painted white. It's a big kitchen, too, nice and open and bright because the glass sliding doors leading to the backyard bring in a lot of natural light. And the rest of their house gets a lot of light too, because there are a lot of tall, wide windows everywhere that makes it look like one of those billion-dollar glass houses.

But their house is very private and cozy, too. It's in a neighborhood where all of the houses aren't right next to each other, which is nice because it's not like they're _alone_, but they have their space. Obviously they have curtains and everything, too, and then Bruce crafted and installed their security system himself before they moved in.

They're pretty safe here.

At least, that's how she's always felt. Maybe that has to do more with Dick than the actual house.

"You're up early," Dick comments, arms wrapping around her waist from behind.

"I know," she says with a slight laugh, smiling as he kisses her temple. He's almost always up before she is, but this morning she just found herself awake while he was still sleeping and she felt totally fine, too. He hugs her closer, pressing her back against his chest, and kisses her neck as she's pouring pancake batter into the pan. "Dick," she breathes.

"Yes?"

"You're going to make me spill." He slides his lips up, kisses the underside of her jaw. She chuckles, shaking her head. "If I burn this…" He smiles against her skin, kisses her throat again and asks if he can help. "Slice some fruit, please?"

"Can do," he says.

By the time they're done with breakfast—pancakes, sliced fruit, bacon, scrambled eggs, and toast—she can hear Maria and John laughing upstairs.

It's the cutest thing ever, the little routine their kids somehow developed. John usually wakes up before his sister, because he's like his dad and gets up before the sun, then trots himself over to Maria's room, climbs into her bed and waits for her to wake up. For now, at least, Maria actually likes waking up to her little brother. (They're dreading the day when they both get older and it changes.) Then when Maria's shaken off most of her sleep, they go across the hallway to the twins' nursery. And because Drake and Rhea are like, the happiest babies in the world right now, they wake up and are totally content with playing with their brother and sister, quietly, until she and Dick meet them.

Maria's cackle echoes down the staircase and Dick laughs. Maria sounds _so much_ like her father when she laughs like that, and the first time she ever made that sound, she was three and had perched herself on a tall (well, tall for her) branch of the tree in their backyard.

They knew from that moment that they were in way over their heads with her. Then they had John, and then the twins, and yeah.

Obviously they like the challenge.

She switches off the burner and lowers the fan above the oven, and Dick follows her up the staircase and into the nursery. Rhea's the first to spot them, and she giggles and points at them as soon as they're walking through the door.

"Mommy," John exclaims, sliding off of the rocking chair he and Maria were sharing, running up to her and throwing his arms around her waist, squeezing.

Her eyes water just a little because, no, she'll never get used to this, how excited their kids always are to see them. They are so sweet, and she knows there's no such thing as perfect, but _honestly_, their kids are. They really are. They're kids, of course, and they can be difficult, but they know how lucky they are that their kids are so easy most of the time.

"What about Daddy?" Dick asks, and John laughs and holds his arms up, squishes his cheek against Dick's as soon as he's in his arms.

"Can I carry Drake downstairs?" Maria asks.

She meets Dick's eyes, who smiles a little and nods. They've let the kids hold the twins, of course, but obviously when they're sitting down and it's safer. But now that Maria's a little older and a lot more careful, and the twins are sturdier and not as fussy, she likes to walk around with them now. It's never been up or down the stairs, but they trust her. John's not ready to carry them on his own yet like Maria can, which they know kind of irks him, so they always let him help with things like feeding them or giving them baths.

They walk downstairs together with Maria carrying Drake, John in Dick's arms and Rhea in hers, and John leaps onto the floor as soon as they're in the kitchen so he can help Dick move the high-chairs next to the island. She straps Rhea into her high-chair, takes Drake from Maria and straps him in as Maria's climbing onto the stool next to John.

"What's that supposed to be?"

"It's a duck!"

"Why's he all by himself?" Maria asks, and then grabs another piece of chalk from the drawer and starts drawing a duck next to John's. "See? He needs a Big Sister Duck." John laughs and starts drawing again below their ducks, and Maria asks, "Can we see the ducks at the park today?"

"Sure thing," Dick tells her as he's pouring orange juice into their glasses. "Only if you two remember to wash your hands before you eat."

"We will," Maria promises.

"Look!" John exclaims, grabbing their attention. He's drawn four more ducks with his and Maria's—two smaller and two bigger. "These are Rhea and Drake Duck," he explains, pointing. Rhea and Drake are totally quiet as their brother talks, as if they're taking in everything that he's saying. "And the bigger ones are Daddy and Mommy Duck."

"Duck," Rhea says.

Zatanna nearly drops the jar of baby food in her hand.

"Did she just…" Dick's eyes are wide, a smile spreading across his face.

"Where's the duck?" John asks Rhea.

Rhea points at the drawings on the counter and exclaims, "Duck!" a little louder, and Maria and John start cheering, and then Drake starts laughing because his brother and sister are, and like, Zatanna has to set down the baby food for a minute. Rhea just said her _first word_.

"Okay, now we _have_ to go see the ducks!" Maria declares, and she and Dick just laugh along with their kids.


	40. drabble 40

**Pairing: **Tim/Cassie**  
Rating:** PG-13  
**Word Count:** ~1,300  
**Photo inspiration: **media. tumblr. /3da11f34da4ebd187ee21b06fd32 c94e/ tumblr_ inline_ mjw3qjjFYZ1qz4rgp. jpg

... ...

She's not really sure when study hall became a part of their daily training routine at the Cave, but basically from 4:00 to 6:00, they're all in the living room, a little spread out and quietly doing their homework—and literally _all_ of them, because even the older members have their college stuff that they work on if they have time. Sometimes they've got other things to take care of and don't always stick around for the whole two hours, but still. No one in the Cave does any training until after 6:00, and it's kind of funny that everyone seems to follow this schedule even though someone has yet to say out loud that this is how things are going to be.

Anyway, she's sitting at the kitchen island because she dropped her stuff onto a barstool to grab a snack when she first got to the Cave and just didn't end up moving to the living room when everyone else started coming in.

And, well, okay, maybe it's also because she and Tim are the only ones in the kitchen, but whatever.

It's not that big of a deal.

Anyway, she's finishing the last of her flash cards for French 1 when something slides across the counter and bumps into her hand—a scientific calculator. Tim's grinning when she looks at him and she arches an eyebrow, amused, before turning the calculator so she can see what's on the screen.

He graphed a butterfly. She's somehow amazed and not really surprised at all.

She smiles at him and mouths, "_Cute_," and he leans over and grabs his calculator, hits a few keys then slides it back to her. This time there's a daisy on the screen. She bites her lower lip to keep from smiling any wider because, gosh, that's kind of insanely adorable right now. _He's_ kind of insanely adorable right now, and honestly, he is all the time.

She digs through her bag, pulls out a pad of purple post-its and writes, _Can you make any other pictures?_, then sticks it onto the screen and slides it across the counter. She knows a scientific calculator has actual letters that people use for messages, but whatever. This is faster.

He pulls out a pad of blue post-its after reading her note, writes something and sticks it over her post-it before sliding the calculator back.

_Yeah, but they're not that interesting_.

She grins, writes on a new post-it: _So got anything else to entertain us for the last half hour of study hall?_ Then she slides the calculator to him again and sets her post-its aside, tucks her worksheet into her folder and puts her folder back into her bag.

When she gets the calculator back this time, his blue post-it on top of hers is folded in half.

'_Are you copper and tellurium?'_ She shoots him an amused look and he just grins, so she pulls down the flap. '…_Because you're_ _cute'_—with elemental sign for copper (Cu) and tellurium (Te) written exactly like you'd find it on the periodic table, in boxes with their atomic masses and electron numbers and everything else included.

She puts a hand over her mouth to stifle her giggles. Oh, _gosh_.

_You're the one that's cute_, she writes, underlining "you're" a few times for emphasis. She knows that's kind of the lamest comeback, ever, but she's a little giddy and really warm and not thinking properly right now, so whatever.

_Now it's your turn_, he writes back.

_Sorry! I don't really know geeky pick-up lines. I'm not nearly smart enough._

His eyes flick up to meet hers after he reads her post-it, and she feels her cheeks grow even warmer under his stare, because he's looking at her like… Well, okay, she might've seen Dick giving Barbara that same look a few times (or like, _all the time_) and she's not exactly opposed to receiving it from Tim.

Then Tim slides the calculator back with a fresh post-it on top.

_1. Geeky can be new—Dick's words  
2. You're insanely smart  
3. What's your sine? It must be pi/2 because you're the 1_

She bites her lower lip to keep from laughing, catching Conner looking at them from his peripheral with an amused smile. She rolls her eyes at him and waves her hand dismissively, which makes Tim laugh softly. Then she grabs her stack of post-its again.

_1. Geeky is insanely sexy—Barbara's words  
2. You mean I'm insanely embarrassing  
3. More! Please?_

He laughs.

_1. They're so subtle, aren't they?  
2. You're insanely cute  
3. I wish I were adenine because then I could be paired with U_

_1. Oh, definitely. NOTHING is happening between them at all  
2. You're insanely sweet  
3. Okay, I know a few but they're lame compared to yours_

_1. I wish I didn't know so many details about the "nothing" they have  
2. You're insanely amazing  
3. I'm attracted to you so strongly, scientists will have to develop a 5th fundamental force.  
4. And it's only fair that you share yours!_

_1. If it's the "nothing" I know, I don't want to compare notes  
2. This argument is insanely pointless, isn't it?  
3. You're like a dictionary, you add meaning to my life!  
4. Told you it would be lame_

_1. They're so in love  
2. Yes, it is, because I'm right  
3. Our love is like dividing by 0, you can't define it  
4. I liked it, though. More! Please?_

_1. Is it really that serious between them?  
2. I'M right  
3. Is your name Google? Because you have everything I've been searching for  
4. Are you mocking me?_

She slides the calculator back to him, watches him read it then pick up his pen and post-it pad to write his response, but then someone—Gar, she thinks—exclaims, "Finally!" from the living room and she jumps a little in surprise and looks for the time on the oven clock. It's 6:00 exactly.

Everyone starts moving again, the room is suddenly a lot noisier than it was a few seconds ago as everyone's talking to each other while shuffling papers back into their bags and zipping them up. She pulls her bag off of the counter and watches as Tim peels off the post-it notes from his calculator, sticks them inside his folder and sets everything back inside his bag before zipping it closed and hiking the strap over his shoulder. Then he meets her eyes and smiles, walks over and threads their fingers together, squeezing gently.

"So, Dick and Barbara, they're really…" He shrugs one shoulder, but the look on his face is enough of an answer for her. "Good for them," she says, meaning it.

"Yeah," he agrees.

She grins, swings their hands between them a little. "So, where'd you learn all those pick-up lines?"

He blushes and lets out a breathy laugh, running his free hand through his hair like he does when he's a little flustered. "Dick," he says as an explanation, and Cassie laughs because, yeah, she figured. "Gotham patrols can get really boring sometimes."

"You must have a lot more, right? Can I hear?"

"Well, yeah, but they're the ones he tells…" He trails off, pressing his lips together. She smiles, amused and incredibly curious, and she knows he can tell just by looking at her. "Okay, it's going to sound a little…" He shakes his head, squeezes their fingers a little tighter, for whatever reason. "Just don't get embarrassed, okay?"

"Are they really that bad?"

He doesn't answer.

She's about to tell him that it's alright if he doesn't want to share them, but then he leans in closer, his breath warm against her ear, and she swears the shade her cheeks turn must be as red as his costume when he whispers, "If you were my homework, I'd slam you on the table and do you all night long."


	41. drabble 41

**Pairing: **Jaime/Cassie**  
Rating:** PG-13  
**Word Count:** ~1,300  
**Photo Inspiration: **media. tumblr. /fe1edff24d7178b8b900cd53a9b8 5a78/ tumblr_ inline_ mjxsz8iI5U1qz4rgp. jpg

... ...

He doesn't really know why they're celebrating the Fourth of July in the middle of nowhere, but he kind of loves it. Space from the rest of the world is basically what they all need right now, even though, yeah, everyone doesn't hate them anymore and the League's reputation is restored not only on Earth but in the galaxies. But they just need the time off.

And they're not in the middle of _nowhere_.

They're on the Kent family farm… which happens to be in the middle of nowhere.

(Okay, he's totally exaggerating, because there's a town within walking distance and other people, obviously. It's just that all of the houses here are huge and spread out and have all of these acres of land between them that it doesn't even seem like anyone really has any neighbors. It's kind of awesome, actually.)

And what makes this even better is that _everyone's_ here—the League, the Team, the family and friends that are in on their secret, and even some of the older, retired heroes. Jade Nguyen is here, too, which is actually a little odd, even though she's technically not their enemy anymore now that she's got Lian and is living with Roy and trying to make things work for their little family. He's all for accepting that people can change if they want it hard enough, and he really _does_ think that Jade wants this change, but yeah. It's still a little bizarre.

It's beautiful out here, too, in that very picturesque way, with green fields and blue skies and puffy, white clouds. The weather is pretty warm, but he's used to it since he grew up in a place that's hot and dry most of the time, so this hardly bothers him.

"Are you going to finish that?"

Bart points at Jaime's plate with a finished barbecue skewer, eying his burger. "I _just_ got this," Jaime points out with a laugh.

Bart just shrugs, pops another handful of chips into his mouth. "I always forget that you eat a lot slower than me."

"That's because I have the metabolism of a _normal_ person," Jaime jokes, and Bart rolls his eyes and downs the rest of his bag. Jaime wrinkles his nose a little, because that looks like a heart attack waiting to happen even though, yeah, he kind of wishes he had the boy's stomach capacity because he's hungry like, all the time now, too.

Then Bart gets this grin on his face, elbows Jaime.

"Hey, there's your girl."

Jaime turns to look as Cassie's stepping off of the patio, laughing along with Conner to something. She's got a glass of pink lemonade in each hand and Conner's got two whole pitchers of it in his hands, and Dinah and Barry walk out of the house behind the two of them carrying a two more trays of empty glasses.

Okay, if he's being honest here, he was kind of wary of Conner and Cassie before he even got together with her. She told him all the time that Conner was basically like family to her because she's close to Diana and Diana's been close with Clark for a while. And apparently Cassie and Conner spent a whole summer together before Cassie joined the Team, which was shortly after he and Megan broke up, so Jaime thinks it makes a lot of sense that they'd get so close. It was still a little suspicious to Jaime, honestly, even though he and Conner are good friends now. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't jealous because Conner's, well, _Conner_, and every other girl would practically jump at the chance to be with him.

But obviously Cassie isn't like every other girl, so.

Conner meets Jaime's eyes and grins, leans in closer to Cassie and says something to her that makes her scoff and roll her eyes. Conner gives her this look and she shakes her head and starts walking towards Jaime.

"What'd he say?" Jaime asks, laughing a little.

"I'll tell you later," she promises, handing him a glass. She tries to hand one to Bart, but the boy's already gone, even though Jaime _knows_ he heard him say hi to Cassie just a second ago. She takes a sip of it, instead, and he follows her eyes to where Conner is standing with Wendy at the refreshments table. "They're cute."

"Yeah," he agrees.

And he really does like Wendy, even if he's only known her for a few days. She makes Conner happy and he deserves it, honestly. Jaime hasn't been around long enough to know the whole story, but he knows that Conner took being dumped by Megan pretty hard. This is probably the happiest Jaime's seen Conner, ever, and if even Cassie hadn't filled him in on a few details, he would've been able to tell, anyway. It was pretty obvious there was something between them when Conner introduced Wendy as the new Team coordinator (she was taking over for Mal, since he seemed determined to remain by Karen's side as Guardian).

"Wendy's amazing, isn't she? I'm glad she's there for Conner. He was telling me about her and… He's lucky."

"Yeah, maybe," Jaime says, sliding his hand over the small of Cassie's back and settling it over her hip, pulling her closer as he adds, "but I'm pretty lucky, too."

She blushes, breathes his name.

She looks like she's about to say something, too, when Wendy says her name. "Want to lend a hand?" she asks, holding up one of the pitchers of lemonade, which is half-empty because she's filled a few glasses on the table. Beside her, Conner's slicing lemons over a cutting board and dropping a few into each glass.

"Of course," Cassie calls back, and he pulls his hand from her hip and threads their fingers together in between them as they walk over.

Conner hands him a knife and a lemon before he can ask if he needs help, and Jaime chuckles, shaking his head as he sets his glass aside. He outs the lemon down on the edge of the cutting board closest to him, slices it in half and then into thinner slices. The girls are laughing about something he didn't catch as they're topping off the other glasses with lemonade and ice, then Cassie leans in, whispers something to Wendy that makes the girl's cheeks turn a bright pink. Conner chuckles beside him.

"We're lucky, huh?" he asks, and even though Conner's eyes are on Wendy (as they always seem to be lately), Jaime knows he's talking to him, so he nods because, yeah, they really are. Then Conner says, "So," and Jaime turns to find Conner staring right at him. "You're going to take care of Cassie, right?"

Jaime blinks.

Conner chuckles like he can tell that Jaime's confused. "She'll probably just get mad and say she can take care of herself just fine, but…" He shrugs a shoulder. "I know you're a good kid and all. I just want to make sure. Cassie's important to me."

Jaime blinks again, taking in the serious look on Conner's face, and he's beginning to think that this must've been what made Cassie roll her eyes at Conner earlier.

"Of course," Jaime tells him. Conner doesn't say anything. "Cassie's important to me, too," he reminds, and Conner gets this grin on his face.

"I know."

"Will you two quit lagging over there?"

Wendy's smiling at them teasingly with a hand on her hip, and Conner laughs, sets down his knife and walks over to her. She smiles widely, leans up to whisper something into his ear, and Cassie comes to stand in front of Jaime. He settles his hands over her hips, presses their lips together and thinks that it fits her, the way her kiss tastes like lemonade.


	42. drabble 42

**Pairing: **Roy/Jade**  
Rating:** NC-17ish?  
**Word Count:** ~1,100  
**Prompts:** "Is that an order?" and 'trapped'  
**Photo Inspiration: **media. tumblr. /18fde345feb803ee7335c565c051 7852/ tumblr_ inline_ mk1n74Cpl01qz4rgp. jpg  
**For:** annasbeth

... ...

She knows her way around his apartment better than any other place she's been to, with, maybe, the exception of the one she grew up in back in Gotham. Even then, she only ever gets fragments of that place as they come with memories, never a whole picture. She's sure she can remember if she tried, but she'd rather not.

And it should be a little concerning, honestly, how comfortable she is in this apartment—_their_ apartment.

Crap.

She's not really sure when this thing with Roy became permanent, or at least, as permanent as things get for her. She won't call it a relationship, even though that's honestly the best word for it. She's just not good with them, doesn't know how to keep them, or rather, doesn't really try to. And she knows that some small part of her that is afraid to acknowledge whatever's going on between her and Roy as a relationship because then it becomes something important to her, something she wants, and that kind of emotional tie makes it a hell of a lot harder to walk away from. Because things that she wants get taken away from her.

She's protecting him by keeping her distance. It's what she's done with Artemis and her mom and they're all better this way.

And she's going to stop thinking about this.

She pulls out the kettle from one of the high cupboards, turns on the faucet so she can fill it with water. It's still dark out because it's barely passed 5:00 in the morning, but she feels wide awake and wants to drink tea. She gets a pot of coffee started, though, because Roy likes the stuff and she's awake before him (again), so might as well.

See? She's considerate.

And she doesn't really know why she should, honestly, because he was being an ass last night and kept pushing the blankets off because he was getting too warm and that left her cold. She had to move closer to him because he's like a freaking space heater, for whatever reason, and that was the only way she could fall asleep without freezing to death. She's blaming that for why she woke up this morning and found her head lying against his bicep instead of the pillow, her back against his chest and his other arm draped over her hip.

She doesn't _cuddle_, especially after sex, yet she always finds herself pressed against him like this in the morning, like they're actually…

No.

She kind of slams the kettle onto the electric stove, as if trying to scare the thought away from her head, switching on the burner and then pushing her fingers through her hair, shaking her head a little. They're not like that.

They're _not_.

"What did that stove ever do to you?"

She looks over her shoulder as Roy's walking into the kitchen, dressed only in his jeans, which happens when he's too lazy in the mornings to remember where she tossed his boxers the night before. She supposes she can't really say anything about it this time around considering she put on his shirt instead of her own. She isn't wearing a bra or panties underneath, either, because he took those off of her while they were still in the living room and she honestly just forgot to look for them as soon as she walked into the kitchen.

"You should leave the wit to me," she advises. He gets this smirk on his lips but doesn't say anything. "I'm guessing you had a good night."

"So did you."

She arches an eyebrow. "You don't know that."

"I don't?"

He steps forward, presses against her a little so that she's trapped between him and the counter and pushes her hair from her neck, tracing his fingers over the marks she knows he left there. He doesn't get that smug look on his face like you'd expect him to, or any guy that's decent in bed to, really. He just _smiles_ at her like he needs to.

"I think I might have an idea," he says. It's so low that she's surprised she'd heard it, and she presses her hips against him a little, brushing her center over the front of his jeans. _Fuck_, she kind of wants him already. "You're beautiful."

She tips her head back and _laughs_, because he's always telling her that, or variations of that.

(But isn't it kind of screwed up that can't remember the last time someone called her that before Roy? She might think it is if, you know, she cared about that kind of stuff.)

"You're so weird, Red," she says, placing her hands on either side of his face before bringing him in for a kiss. He sets his hands on her hips over his shirt that she has on and kisses her a little dirtier, presses her harder against the counter so that her center brushes where he's hard for her, making her moan against his lips.

"Already?" he asks, moving to bring his hand between them. He runs knuckles over her wet folds before she can respond and her eyelids flutter closed, her fingernails digging into his bare shoulder a little as she breathes out his name. "I can't lie. I'm flattered by how much you want me."

"Shut up," she almost growls.

"Is that an order?"

She meets his eyes, mouth curving upward a little despite herself. "That depends. Would you follow it?"

He chuckles, lowers her back against the counter.

"Don't I always?"

She wraps her legs around his waist and kisses him again instead of answering. But it's enough of an answer for him, because then he's grinding against, creating just enough friction for her to feel it yet not be enough, and she rolls her hips and digs her fingers into his skin a little harder. He doesn't seem to mind, just kisses her harder as the kettle goes off.

She has to reheat the water for another minute and he microwaves his coffee, because he made her come, twice, with his fingers inside her and his lips against her throat, and everything kind of went cold because of the wait. She doesn't really care, though. He kissed her after she'd come down from her second high and apologized for making her so cold last night, then told her not to worry about him when she asked if he wanted her to return the favor. She has no idea what's gotten into him, or if he's always been like this and she's never noticed, but either way, she's in such a good mood that she lets him _carry_ her to the couch, and they share a plate of waffles with the TV turned onto the news.

She accidentally calls it _their apartment_ when she's sitting on his lap, talking about having to go grocery shopping soon. He doesn't point it out or anything, but she knows he heard it because he starts kissing her throat gently in a way he hasn't done. She lets it slide because she's still talking.

Then she asks exactly what they need so she can write a list, and he's got this huge smile on his face as he rallies things off with her.

She lets that slide, too.


	43. drabble 43

**Pairing:** Roy/Jade  
**Rating:** NC-17ish  
**Word Count:** ~900  
**Prompt:** (612): He wouldn't let me leave his house until he made me orgasm once for every year I've been alive. The birthday sex song did not prepare me for this.

... ...

She'd be lying if she said she didn't come here to end up in bed with him.

Sex is pretty much her only reason for coming here and they both know it. He stopped asking her so many questions after the fourth or fifth time it happened, mostly because he caught on to the fact that she wasn't going to tell him how she kept getting into his apartment and what she'd been up to since he last saw her.

But tonight she was waiting for him with a bottle of champagne and a bar of dark chocolate, and obviously he figured there must be an occasion or something since she normally doesn't bring anything. And it wasn't like she was planning to tell him it was her birthday. She just expected the insanely hot sex that he's so good at giving her, but then they were sitting around the table and not really paying attention to the news channel the TV was turned onto while they drank and ate chocolate, and she was buzzed enough to let it slip out.

She's glad that it did.

Honestly, if she'd known that telling him it's her birthday would get her special treatment, she would've started with it.

"_God_," she breathes. He's kissing her throat, his fingers tracing patterns over her hip, and…

She wonders if you can die from too many orgasms. Like, she's seriously wondering it, because she lost count of how many he gave her last night and she feels tired and just thoroughly fucked. It's basically the only way she can describe it, and it's kind of the best feeling ever.

Well, that's up for debate. This morning she woke up with him kissing the inside of her thigh and she ended up coming twice with his tongue pressed against her folds, because he would not stop lapping at her after her first orgasm until she was coming again. Then he kissed his way up her body as she was coming down from her second high, asked how old she turned today as he was pressing against her entrance, and she'd muttered, "Twenty-five," because he obviously wasn't going to give her anything until she confessed.

Then he'd rolled his hips and she moaned as he sank into her, kissed her throat because he knows it drives her crazy and murmured, "More than halfway there," against her skin. She wonders if he's being serious.

Considering that it's almost noon and she hasn't left his bed since _last night_, he probably is.

"Too much?" he asks.

She rolls her eyes. "Don't get confident."

He doesn't respond, just reaches for the bottle of water on the nightstand, uncaps it and hands it to her. She should probably feel a lot more embarrassed about how exhausted she is, but it'd be stupid to pretend like he isn't the best sex she's ever had. She'd never, ever tell him that, but he probably already knows.

_God_, she's _begged_ him a few times already, because he was feeling bold with his teasing and she was desperate enough to not care and moaned his name like he mattered.

If he doesn't know how much she loves their sex, he's an idiot.

She takes a few gulps of water, leans back against his chest when he starts pressing kisses to her throat again. She's going to pretend they're not as soft and gentle as they really are, just like she's going to pretend that she doesn't love them as much as she does.

"Are you bothered by the fact I'm older than you?"

He pauses to look at her. "Why?" he asks.

She shrugs, because she honestly doesn't know where that came from. He's fucked her so thoroughly that she doesn't know where any of these stupid thoughts are coming from, let alone if she's thinking them to herself or saying them out loud. And they _are_ stupid thoughts, because only people in relationships think of them and they're _not_ in one.

When she doesn't answer, he sweeps her bangs from her face and kisses her temple. "Does it bother _you?_"

"Not anymore," she says.

She feels him chuckle. Then he asks, "So, did you really not want to celebrate your birthday?" and sounds almost surprised, so she kind of has to give him this weird look because, honestly, he's one to talk. She remembers exactly what he was like during his depression about being a clone (that, thankfully, he's starting to come out of a little) and she's pretty sure if she'd brought anything about birthdays up a few months ago when he was a lot worse, he would've made a big fuss about it. She doesn't know why hers is any different.

"So getting an orgasm for every year I've lived doesn't count as celebrating?" He shakes his head, amused. "You're not done, by the way," she reminds, because yes, she's been counting ever since she figured out how many times she came last night.

"I'll give you the last three after we get lunch."

"What?"

"Go to lunch with me," he tells her.

"No," she laughs. He kisses her throat. "Red, we're not going out to lunch to celebrate my birthday. We're doing just fine here, and I know what's going to happen. We're not going to end up coming home right away and then I'm going to have to wait until we go out to the dinner you'll talk me into before you finish what you started."

When he doesn't respond, she looks over her shoulder at him, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his lips and, _god_, when did she become so transparent?

"Fine," she huffs. "But those last three orgasms better be the best I've ever had."

He grasps her chin with his fingers, brings their lips together and kisses her kind of gently, and yeah, somehow she just knows he's not going to hold out on her today.


	44. drabble 44

**Pairing:** Jaime/Cassie  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Word Count:** ~600  
**Prompt:** elevator, 10:26 PM  
**For:** dikemon

... ...

All she really wants to do right now is go upstairs to their hotel room and _sleep_, and it's not even because she's really tired or anything. She's just kind of done with this wedding, which sounds horrible, she knows, but it's the only thing she's been allowed to focus on all day since she woke up this morning and had to meet Donna and the rest of the bridal party at the salon to get their hair and makeup done. She supposes that's what happens when you're the little sister of the bride and you get roped into being so involved with the planning that suddenly you feel entirely obligated to make sure everything goes smoothly.

She probably would've felt obligated, anyway, even if she had nothing to do with the planning, because she loves Donna and that's what sisters do, but still.

She's kind of _done_ with weddings until it's her own.

Anyway, she finds Donna's husband's best friend, Wally, stationed at the chocolate fountain with his girlfriend and tells the both of them that she's going to go upstairs now. Eventually one of them will be able to get the word out to her family if they start looking for her, and she doesn't feel like hunting down her parents to tell them herself, so.

She slips out through the side door closest to the dessert table and shivers a little. The hallway is significantly colder than the ballroom and it's kind of really refreshing.

There's only one other person waiting for the elevators when she arrives and he looks almost her age. He's wearing a tuxedo, too, but she's pretty sure she didn't see him in the ballroom at all, so he's obviously not someone coming from their party.

His eyes widen just a little bit when he sees her, his cheeks coloring slightly, and she fights off her own blush. "Are you going up too?" he asks, kind of rushing it all out. She smiles gently, tucks her hair behind her ear. He laughs, embarrassed. "Sorry, of course you're going up. This is the bottom floor."

"You never know," she says. "I could have a room in the basement."

He laughs again and it comes out more relaxed this time. She smiles a little wider. Then the elevator chimes as the doors slide open, and he gestures for her to step in first.

"What floor?" he asks.

"Twelfth," she answers, and then adds on an exhale, "Or anywhere, really. I'm in no rush to go to bed."

"Why is that?"

She doesn't reply, though, because she's distracted. The elevator they're in is entirely glass, so she has a perfect view of the giant pond in the center of the hotel lobby. She didn't really get a good look at it until now because she was busy running from the ballroom to the hotel room anytime she passed by here, but it's _beautiful._ It's lit with colored lights hidden underneath the rocks all along the edge and decorated with all of these gorgeous plants draping from the overhang. There's a fountain, too, with statues of mermaids lounging on rocks in the very center of the pond, and the water is so clear that she can easily see all of the copper and silver coins glistening at the bottom of the water.

"It's pretty, right?" She nods, turns to look at the boy. He's smiling at her and, for whatever reason, that makes her blush a little more. "It's my favorite part of this hotel."

"You come here a lot?"

He nods, grinning as he shrugs. "I have a big family, so we're always celebrating _something_."

"Sounds like fun," she says, meaning it. Then she glances at the buttons on the wall. "Um, where are we going?"

His grin gets a little bigger. "To the top floor," he replies. "There's a really nice garden up there with another fountain and seating areas. I figured maybe you'd like to see it since you don't want to go back to your hotel room right away. I mean, we don't have to if you—"

"I'd love to," she interrupts, smiling. "Thank you, uh…"

"Jaime," he supplies.

"Jaime," she echoes. His smile makes her cheeks warm, but she hardly cares about that anymore. "I'm Cassie," she says, and it's stupid, really, that when he slips his hand in hers to shake it, she can't help but wonder if how she feels is the same way Donna feels whenever she holds Dick's hand.


	45. drabble 45

**Pairing:** Conner/Wendy  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Word Count:** ~700  
**Prompt:** Kent Farm, 5:30 AM  
**For:** metaorigin

... ...

She isn't lying beside him in bed when he wakes up, which isn't necessarily alarming (A, she's more than capable of taking care of herself should something happen; and B, it's the Kent family farm—nothing ever really happens here) but it is a little surprising. It's five in the morning and they're on spring break. He can't imagine what would compel her to leave the warmth and comfort of their bed before the sun's even risen. Still, he gets up, too, because now he's definitely curious as to where his girlfriend could've disappeared to.

He finds her in the kitchen downstairs, sitting on the counter in nothing but her flannel shorts and his button-down that's been haphazardly pulled on just enough for her to be covered, though some of the buttons are definitely in the wrong holes. In her lap is a small plate with a slice of the caramel apple pie Nana Kent made for dinner.

"You just couldn't wait until morning, huh?" he asks.

She smiles cheekily, stabs an apple with her fork and pops it into her mouth instead of replying.

He chuckles as he walks over and stands between her knees, setting his elbows on the counter along her thighs so that his hands are resting at her hips. "Are you at least going to share?" he asks, and yes, he was (mostly) joking, but he parts his lips and lets her feed him a bite, anyway. "You didn't heat it up," he says.

"I didn't want to be noisy and use the microwave," she explains with a shrug, which causes the sleeve of his button-down to fall off her shoulder. He leans over and kisses her skin there before tugging his shirt back into place. "I love your Nana's recipes."

"I think my Nana loves _you_," he admits. She grins. "I may never be able to get you away from here if you keep sucking up to her."

She scoffs. "I do _not_ suck up!" she protests, and he laughs. So much for not being noisy…

"You totally do."

"I'm just being honest and nice," she argues, and judging by the way she's failing to fight off a smile, he knows he hasn't really offended her or anything. He gives her a look and she rolls her eyes, shaking her head again as she pokes at her slice of pie. "Now you've ruined my appetite. I hope you're happy, Conner Kent."

"I am, because it means more for me, _Wendy Harris_," he mimics, moving his hand to grab for her plate. She twists it out of his reach, a challenging smile on her face and a sparkle in her eyes, and he grasps her chin, instead, and tips her head so that their lips can meet in the middle. She hums into the kiss a little and he takes the plate from her hand, setting it on the counter, and she places her hands on either sides of his face, wraps her legs around his waist as he pushes a hand into her hair and kisses her a little harder.

She smiles at him when she pulls away, sets her hands on her shoulders as he slides his over the small of her back. He uses his free hand to pick up the fork, cut off another piece of piece and feed it to her, and she makes this appreciative noise from the back of her throat.

"Do you think your Nana will let me see her recipes?"

"Not unless your last name is Kent," he says, and then pauses a little when she blushes faintly and he realizes what he just said.

She's smiling, though, like she kind of likes what he's implying, and he smiles back because, yeah, maybe he's thought of it once or twice before now, what it'd be like to have a future with Wendy. It's very easy to imagine because she fits so perfectly with his family, and he's not entirely kidding when he thinks that he's surprised his Nana didn't drive them to the town's chapel and have them married right then and there as soon as Wendy walked through the door. And like, he can picture her in the kitchen with a little boy or girl with dark hair and bright blue eyes as they help her make the pie crust for whatever recipe Wendy wants to try next and…

(Okay, maybe he's thought of it more than once or twice, but whatever.)

"That doesn't sound half-bad," she says, and he chuckles and nods because, yeah, it doesn't sound half-bad at all.


	46. drabble 46

**Pairing:** Jason/Bette  
**Rating:** NC-17ish  
**Word Count:** ~900  
**Photo Inspiration:** link on profile

**Note:** This is a follow-up to Kink Meme Drabble #3, part of what I now dub the Jason/Bette Arc.

... ...

She wakes up with comforter pushed almost entirely off of her, her legs tangled within the sheets. She's _cold_, obviously, which stupid since the only reason she kicked the covers off of herself while she was sleeping in the first place is probably because they're satin, which doesn't breathe at all, and it must've gotten too warm for her.

She rolls her head to find the spot in the bed beside her empty which, yeah, makes her feel kind of shitty no matter how you spin it, because she sure as hell didn't fall asleep in a king-sized all by herself. Somehow this makes her feel even colder than she already is and she shivers lightly, shifting a little so she can reach down and untangle the sheets from her legs. She starts to tug them over herself, but she only gets it halfway past her stomach when a someone asks, "Feeling shy all of a sudden?" and she sucks in a breath, drops the sheet and rolls her head in the direction of their voice.

Jason.

Even in the dark with nothing but the city lights coming in through the window to light the room, she can tell that it's him. He's got a glass in his hand and a bottle of scotch sitting on the table, and he must've put his boxers back on whenever he decided to get up.

"Feeling cold," she corrects, moving an arm to cover her chest despite herself. He chuckles and takes another sip of his drink. He's right, though. He's seen her body before. He saw her body _last night_. It's kind of silly that she's starting to feel a little self-conscious right now. "You know, you really shouldn't be drinking alcohol this early in the morning."

"I think most people consider three-in-the-morning to still be nighttime," he replies. "Besides, my day hasn't ended yet, so it's okay."

She pushes her fingers through her hair, furrowing her eyebrows. "You didn't fall asleep after…?"

"After I fucked you senseless?" he finishes. She rolls her eyes and he chuckles again, takes another sip of scotch. "I think I did for like, half an hour, but it's always like that for me." He shrugs, and before she can respond, he asks, "But why are _you_ up? You were pretty drunk. I thought you'd sleep through the night."

"First of all, I was buzzed." He grins. Whatever, she doesn't do drunken sex that she can't even remember. She _remembers_ last night, remembers leaving the stupid charity gala with him before it was even close to being over and remembers some small part of her hoping no one was observant enough to notice them leave a few minutes after each other and then go into same hotel suite. "Second of all, I probably would've slept soundly if it wasn't for this damned bed. The sheets are too warm and it's too… too _soft_, I guess."

"What?" He sounds amused.

"Shut up," she groans a little, and then exhales a laugh. "It made sense in my head."

"Bette Kane isn't able to properly articulate herself this early in the morning," he muses, swishing his glass a little so the ice clinks together. She looks at him again. "It's kind of relieving to know that you're actually _human_."

"You mean you weren't sure?" she teases, rolling onto her side so that she's facing him. She's still sleepy enough to not be offended by everything he's suggesting. Maybe that's why he's tolerable to her right now. "That wasn't very smart of you, then. I mean, for all you know, you could've been having sex with an alien last night. We all know they're everywhere."

"A very sexy alien," he says.

She feels her cheeks warm, which is stupid because he spent all of last night saying these dirty things into her ear.

She shouldn't want to blush after a comment like that.

He downs the rest of his scotch, sets the glass on the table and walks over to her. She meets his eyes as he pulls her hand from her hair, kissing the teeth marks she left on her skin when she pressed the back of her hand over her mouth, trying to stifle her moans when he was between her legs, working his tongue over her folds.

"Why do you have trouble sleeping? You said it's always like this for you…" He shrugs, kisses her skin again. "Jason…"

"Let's not talk about it," he says, and he doesn't sound mad at her or anything, but the way he says it is almost pleading. Then he sets a knee against the mattress and leans forward, sliding his lips along her throat, and nipping at her skin. She closes her eyes as he finds her pulse, letting out this soft moan as he sucks down on it. She knows that he's just trying to distract her from asking more questions about this, and if he were anyone else, she would call him out on it and wouldn't let him get away with not talking things out with her.

But it's _Jason_, and she knows how he is. If you push things when he doesn't want to deal with it, he'll shut you out, and for whatever reason, she doesn't want him to do that with her. They're friends at the very least, and if providing a distraction from whatever's bothering him is the only thing she can do to help, well…

She pushes the sheets from her, tugs him down by his arm and rolls them so that she's straddling him.

He blinks in surprise and she just grins at him, slips her hand past the waistband of his boxers and strokes his length as she whispers into his ear, "When I'm done with you, you're going to be _begging_ me for a break."

He groans, pushes his fingers through her hair and says, "Game on, princess," before bringing their lips together and kissing her, hard.


	47. drabble 47

**Pairing:** Jason/Bette  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Word Count:** ~1,400  
**Photo Inspiration:** link on profile

**Note:** Part of the Jason/Bette Arc.

... ...

She's not going to have sex with him again unless he takes her on a date.

That should've been the condition _before_ she slept with him the second and third times. But she'd already had a few drinks in her system by the time he approached her at the charity gala and started whispering these dirty things into her ear, and she totally caved and let him take her back to his hotel suite before the stupid thing was even over. Then they ran into each other another night after she caught a late movie with a co-worker and he ended up taking her to his apartment in the city even though he was supposed to be dropping her off at her place. She's just hoping that no one important noticed them either times, because they haven't told anyone yet.

She's not even sure if this is something worth telling.

Well, she'll tell Barbara and Artemis eventually, because they're her best friends and she won't hide things from them for too long. But the only reason she hasn't said anything sooner is because she has no idea what the hell this is other than her and Jason having sex, because it's not like Jason is just some guy she met at a club.

He's her best friend's brother. There's got to be something more to this than just sex. Or maybe she's just imagining that there is. _God_, she hates not having answers.

That's why she's not sleeping with him again until he's at least taken her out for brunch or something.

She's not asking for much, but that's probably just because she hasn't been able to see him and not end up sleeping with him ever since they broke down on the side of the highway and wound up having sex in his pick-up truck. And she's not even exaggerating. She's seen him exactly twice since that night and ended up in bed with him after both accounts.

This needs to stop.

Anyway, she's unloading the groceries she bought at the farmers market when she gets a call from an unknown number on her cell. It's within the area code, though, so she probably knows who this is and feels a little less hesitant about answering it. "Hello?"

"You doing anything today?" someone asks.

Jason.

It's kind of pathetic, actually, how instantly she recognizes his voice. "Um, no, not anymore," she admits. "My lunch plans with Artemis fell through."

"Great," he says, and before she can respond he adds, "Because I'm right outside your house and it's kind of warm in the car. Think you can be ready in less than ten minutes?"

"You're _what?_" Bette walks from the kitchen and pulls back the curtain, and sure enough, Jason and his stupid truck are sitting in her driveway. He meets her eyes through the windows and gets that stupid smirk of his on his face and she fights off a grin. "_God_, you're so stupid."

"What?" he laughs.

"If that's your idea of asking a lady on a date then it's no wonder you don't have a girlfriend."

"First of all, I'm not asking out a lady. I'm asking out _you_." She rolls her eyes and he laughs again, shifts in his seat so that he's leaning forward with one arm against the steering wheel. "Second of all, I don't have a girlfriend because I've never been with anyone that was worth coming back to. All of the girls I end up with are a pain in the ass."

"Charming word choice," Bette comments.

"Yeah, well." He shrugs his shoulders. "So are you coming?"

"Jason," she says.

He sighs loudly, making her chuckle as she pulls away from the window. Honestly, he acts like asking someone out properly is such a chore, even though she remembers telling him he needed to ask her out if he planned on sleeping with her again, not just show up at her house unannounced and tell her to get in his truck.

There's a pause on the phone that makes her pull it from her ear to check if the call wasn't dropped or anything, but it shows that the line is still on. Then there's a knock on her door and she arches an eyebrow, opening it to find Jason standing on her doorstep. Well, he's sort of leaning against the side of the door. "You're a pain in the ass, you know that?" he asks into his phone, still pressed to his ear. She laughs and he gets a stupid grin on his face again. "Bette," he says, and she arches an eyebrow. "Will you _please_ go out with me today?"

She should probably give him a harder time. He's most likely expecting it, and it would make sense since that seems to be their relationship. Except it surprised her, honestly, how sweet he sounded while asking. She's not even sure if it was sincere, but…

She thinks it was.

"Fine," she says, and he grins and waits for her in the doorway while she grabs her purse off of the counter.

He doesn't tell her where they're going and she doesn't bother asking. It's partly because it can come off as rude, but mostly it's because she's too busy messing with his radio and laughing every time a song comes on that he doesn't like and he groans loudly and goes into this detailed explanation about why it's horrible.

She's actually having a lot of fun right now.

Then he pulls into parking spot along the sidewalk of this street lined with stores and she asks what they're here for.

"We're here for that," he replies, and she follows his eyes to the park across the street. There are banners and balloons and tables set up, and she smiles as a group of kids run across the grass area closest to them, apparently playing tag.

"The Gotham Academy Spring Forward Fair," she laughs. "I haven't been to one since—"

"You were the one in charge of it?"

"Basically," she says.

He slips a few coins into the meter and then walks over to her, nodding towards the park. "Come on," he says.

She smiles, slips her hand into the crook of his elbow when he offers his arm and lets him lead them across the street, and as soon as she's stepping onto the grass, she's taken back to when she was in high school and planning this thing. It's kind of nice to be able to just enjoy everything, how it all looks and how crazy and fun it is, rather than running around to make sure everything's not falling apart the second she takes her eyes off of something. And it's kind of surprised, really. She always used to think she'd be so critical of these events as soon as she wasn't the one planning them anymore, but she's not thinking anything along those lines right now.

"It's nice, huh?" She looks up at him. "Being able to enjoy something you weren't involved in putting together," he explains, and she laughs.

"Am I that predictable?"

He shrugs. "I've known you for a while, so it's hard to say," he admits. She nods, because yeah, that makes sense. "Look." He pulls them toward a table that has a spread of muffins and cookies and other baked goods out. He grabs a blueberry muffin from the basket and hands it to her. "It's all homemade. I know you're picky about your food."

He grabs a chocolate chip muffin, hands the girl behind the table a $5 and leads them away before she can give him his change.

"I'm not picky," she corrects, tearing a piece off the top. "I'm just conscious about my health."

"You're picky, babe."

She looks up at him, wondering if he messed up just then or if he really did mean to call her what she heard. But then she sort of just stares at him, distracted by the smile on his face. He looks so relaxed and so… _beautiful_. There's really no other way to describe it.

(She thinks she likes him best when he's like this.)

"Is that what makes me such a pain in your ass?" she teases.

"A lot of things make you a pain in my ass."

She laughs, shaking her head. "And yet, you still bother to put up with me," she reminds, and he chuckles, drapes his arm over her shoulder and mumbles something under his breath too softly for her to hear. She thinks she makes out the phrase _worth it_, but she's not really sure. She'll ask him about it later.


	48. drabble 48

**Pairing:** Jason/Bette  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Word Count:** ~1,300  
**Photo Inspiration:** link on profile

**Note:** Part of the Jason/Bette Arc.

... ...

She wakes up in his bed with the sun warming her back, his thin, cotton sheets only covering her from the waist down. She's on her side, facing Jason, her cheek pressed against his arm rather than the pillow and his other arm draped over her waist, his fingers moving absently over the small of her back in a way that feels kind of amazing right now.

"Morning," he mumbles once he sees that she's awake.

"Good morning," she replies, turning so that she's on her back. She stretches out, then tries to ignore the way his hand is moving over her abs as she glances at the clock on the nightstand. It's 10:32. _Crap_. "_God_, I need to get dressed and go like, _now_."

"No you don't."

"I told you that I have brunch with Barbara and Artemis today, and now it's in less than half an hour."

She slides out of bed and he groans, rolls onto his back as he watches her walk across his room to where she left her tote bag on the floor by his dresser. It should be kind of scary, how comfortable she is in his apartment. She's only been here a handful of times before they started sleeping together on a regular basis, except she was always either with Barbara or Dick or both of them because they were passing through or picking something up. They would hardly say a word to each other then, and it wasn't even because they hated each other or anything. Things were always just crazy as hell whenever she found herself here, so they never had the time to stop and chat.

Now she's walking around _naked_, which she doesn't even do at her own place unless she forgets to take an extra towel with her when she showers and doesn't have anything to cover her when she's walking back into her bedroom.

She's going to ignore whatever symbolic meaning this has, though, because she's on a tight schedule and she'll be late if she doesn't get in the shower _now_. It's a good thing that she doesn't take long to get ready like some girls do or else she'd be late. Well, she might be late regardless, but only by a few minutes and that's basically nothing.

"You're killing me here," he says.

"What?"

He props himself up by his elbows and gives her that grin of his that's almost a smirk but not really. He tends to get that look on his face whenever he's thinking something sexual, which is basically every time she's even remotely naked.

Right now she's making her way to his bathroom with nothing on but the tote bag slung over her shoulder.

"Stop being so disgusting," she says, because she can only imagine what's going on in his head right now. She shuts the bathroom door behind her before he can make some suggestive comment, muffling his laugh. She just shakes her head, amused, then drops her tote onto the counter and gets the water running.

Fifteen minutes later, she's washed, dried and dressed. She quickly puts her up in this French braid that she only really does when her hair's wet and she's in a rush because it doesn't make it obvious that she just got out of the shower, then stands in front of the mirror to do her makeup (she learned early on to leave the door open when she showers so that it doesn't fog up). She only does her usual—a swipe of mascara and coat of this lip gloss that also doubles as a moisturizer to prevent chapping—and then she's ready.

He's cooking when she walks out of the bedroom, working on the omelet in the middle of his pan.

It'd be surprising how good of a cook Jason actually is if she didn't already know that Alfred basically made him learn so that he'd be living off of more than instant noodles, takeout and frozen dinners while he was off studying abroad.

"It smells good in here," she comments, because it totally does and even more so right now because she's starving.

"Want something for the road?"

"I shouldn't." She glances at the food. "I'll spoil my appetite for brunch."

"A few strips of bacon will hardly make a difference," he argues. He rips off a square of paper towel, wraps three bacon strips inside it and hands it to her. She smiles and takes a bite off of the top of one, making this little noise at the back of her throat. "So, you're telling Barbara and Artemis that we're dating?" She looks at him. "I _was_ paying attention last night."

"Is that what this is?"

"Don't play that game," he says, but he's laughing, so she knows he's not actually mad. She smiles. "I didn't realize I actually needed to say it."

"You don't," she reassures. She slides her hand over his shoulder and down his chest, dipping her fingers over the contours of his abs as she kisses him. "Wish me luck," she says, because, while she sort of has an idea, she's still not entirely sure how Barbara and Artemis will react.

"Good luck," he replies, and then says, "Hold on," before she's barely turned around to head for the door. He pulls the scarf from her purse and slips it around her neck, tugs her forward a little and brings their lips back together in another kiss, one that's a little harder and a little dirtier than before, and she moans softly. "Good luck," he repeats.

... ...

She's ten minutes late for brunch, but none of them make a big deal out of it.

Then, after they give their orders to their (admittedly cute) waiter, Artemis sort of stares at her before reaching over and pulling the scarf from around her neck and demanding to know the details on who gave her the hickey on her throat, and she says, "Um, Jason Todd, because we're dating," and then, yeah, they kind of make a big deal after that.

"I can't believe you," Artemis says. "I can't believe you slept with Jason _six times_ before you decided to confess to your _best friends_."

"_That's_ what's bothering you about all of this?" Barbara asks Artemis. Artemis shrugs innocently and Bette presses her lips together to keep from laughing. Then Barbara turns to Bette and asks, "You _slept_ with _Jason?_"

"Yes, but—"

"You slept with him six times, too. He must've been good then, right?"

"_Artemis_," Barbara practically hisses, making a face. "If you two are going to discuss details, let me know so I can leave."

"Bye then," Artemis says at the same time Bette says, "We're not discussing any details."

Artemis shoots her a look that Bette ignores. "Okay, aside from you two being completely unreasonable right now in relation to my personal life," she says, "I want you be serious for a few minutes, alright? I want to know how you guys feel. I mean, I'm sorry that I kept it from you for two weeks, but I didn't know what was going until—"

"Bette, relax," Artemis laughs, pushing her fruity lemonade closer (which, honestly, looks like margarita in a regular glass). "We're not mad about any of this. Right, Barbara?"

"Of course I'm not mad." Bette exhales a relieved laugh. "You really thought we'd have a problem with this?"

She shrugs a shoulder.

"Alright, it's kind of _strange_ to learn that my best friend is dating my boyfriend's little brother," Barbara says, and Bette and Artemis laugh. "But, honestly, Jason's not a bad guy. And I think if anyone stands a chance against you, it might actually be him."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Bette says.

"You always did have a thing for the bad boys," Artemis adds. "I'm just happy you haven't given up on men after all those losers you—"

"_Artemis_," Barbara interrupts with a laugh, shaking her head before turning back to Bette. "Is he good to you, at least?" Bette nods, takes another sip of her lemonade. "Well, then, that's all that matters right now. So let's drop this so I still have an appetite. And can you put your scarf back on so I can't see your hickey and get any more mental images?"

Bette and Artemis laugh.


End file.
